Heart And Soul
by EmberTides
Summary: A beautiful story of the love and connection between Sam and Dean Winchester. Follows Dean and Sam throughout the series with a plot. Plot is for me to know and you to read! Enjoy and Review. Wincest. No Flames :)
1. Seems So

_**A/N: this is my first and foremost love story about Sam and Dean Winchester. It isn't about sex, its about the pure emotional and deep bond within them, with a little Wincest :) As always, I don't own the Supernatural show or the actors...but God if I did.. Enjoy :)**_

* * *

_"Wither your footsteps are behind me_

_Or your ghost is on the wall,_

_You know just where to find me_

_When the light begins to fall." Loner, Supernatural_

* * *

Each move was tentative, slow. Painstakingly and beautifully slow. Isn't that how it was supposed to be? After years of being apart, each move was a chess piece that needed to be carefully placed. Each step gingerly beginning to bridge the distance between the two of them.

They were immersed in this; this bond that formed within them. It surrounded their every thought, move, action. This tie-in bound them for life, for after life, for before life.

The supernatural had given them something supernatural, so powerful it trumped everything else.

Even while he was at college, Sam felt his brother. There would be days when he could have sworn that Dean was leaning against the wall, sitting in the room with him; whispering in his ear.

Even as he lay in bed next to Jessica, he could hear his brother's heart beat in his head, and if he tried really hard could feel Dean's presence.

His strong, pure warmth that was everything Dean; everything that beat inside him. Sam had drawn the conclusion one night that he couldn't be without Dean. It was as if his brother was the soul, the core of everything Sam was. He tethered him, kept him together, and even though they were apart; he ground him.

Sam wasn't surprised when Dean had pinned him that night. When the powerful jolt of hazel meeting emerald green, entwined their breath, circled the air; made his heart stop beating for a moment. In that one simple moment, Sam's entire being filled with Love.

This bond thickened between them, each heartbeat became louder than their ears, each brother memorizing everything they saw in the other. Colors, lights, sounds, disappeared. Time stood still, and it was just them.

Broken, pained, angered, magnificently them.

For one second, they were one. Each one whole, each one not needing anything else.

Had the lights not come on, they would have stayed, just simply stayed. Getting lost in each other, in the sweet auras that burnt and blended them together, melded each heart and soul so that's all they could feel.

If Jessica hadn't said Sam's name, perhaps they would have gotten skin to skin, trying to be ever closer than before, trying to become one within one; cause sometimes skin isn't close enough.

By the time Sam had gotten to her; the moments were forgotten; forced into the back of the mind for a time being, each brother in denial over what they felt.

Time doesn't allow denial to run for long, neither does the supernatural.

Each move had to be perfect, each motion the right step….


	2. Lullaby of a Dark Night

_**A/N: I hope you enjoy chapter two...please review. I hope it comes out as beautiful to you as it does to me..enjoy :)**_

* * *

_"Please let me take you  
Out of the darkness and into the light  
'Cause I have faith in you  
That you're gonna make it through another night  
Stop thinking about the easy way out  
There's no need to go and blow the candle out  
Because you're not done  
You're far too young  
And the best is yet to come" Lullaby-Nickel Back_

* * *

Whenever they thought about losing each other, it was like a wrench in the gut. The sick twisted pull of a jagged knife from the heart to the belly. It affected each of them differently, but the moment was the same, an erratic piercing that went through their entire being.

Dean would be sitting in a bar, trying to hit on the next beautiful woman that walked by. Just as he reached out to touch them, he would feel Sam. Sam would flow in his veins. The way he looked, the smell of the musk he wore after taking a hot steamy shower.

He closed his eyes one night, sitting in a bar drinking some whiskey. He allowed himself this one moment, this experiment; in a dark corner of the noise. He could hear the crack of pool tables, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses.

In an instant, all of that would drain away; he would see Sam. As if his little brother was sitting next to him, smirking or rolling his eyes. Dean could never tell what he was doing, just that he was alright. He had come to enjoy those little moments; where he didn't have to deny this incessant pull; a crazy instinct to just be close; to know that Sam was his heart.

When he would open his eyes again, reality would sink in; the noises and crazy sounds of everything smashing together. Dean would find himself wishing for silence, for the quiet of Sams breathing; for his hotel room.

Time doesn't allow for denial, neither does the Supernatural…

* * *

The first time it had occurred, it had been Sam's secret. He was pinned up against a wall, watching as the yellowed eyed demon crushed each one of Dean's organs slowly. The monster had possessed the body of their father; and was having no trouble torturing his son.

Sam could feel his brother's pain; almost as if they were the same person. Every internal body part crushed, Sam could feel. He had begged and pleaded, asked for mercy. He would hear Dean beg Dad not to kill him; that he still needed to be there for Sam.

Sam knew that if Dean died, Sam would to. The only person ever there in his life, the only one that came back for him, that loved him deeper than anything. He was Sam's soul, Sam's entire reason for existence.

As if lightning had cracked, it stopped. He was dropped down to the ground; crawling over to Dean; to hold him. He began kissing the blood from his wounds as his brother spit up his organs, his being. Each bloodied cough; each "Sam, Sammy." Would wrench the young man's heart.

It was in the hospital, while John ran off into dark regions that Sam sat at his brother's side. He knew that Dean didn't have to long to live, that he would lose him, lose the soul that was part of him.

He reached out and ran his hand along Deans, memorizing the feel of the knuckles that had thrown punches at him, pinned him against walls, and scraped the hair out of his eyes. He would talk softly, quietly, telling Dean how much he loved him, how much he needed to stay.

Once his fingers touched the silken cold skin, Sam knew that he wouldn't be able to stop. The urge to trace every skin line, every scar; would become so difficult it would be painful to pull away. His hands found their way up to Dean's face, tracing the form; memorizing the shape.

Sam's strong hands cupped his face; with one hand resting on his face, the other on Deans chest; Sam would feel his brother's shallow heartbeats; breathe with him; in the same moment. He thought if maybe they could feel this, then he could bring Dean to life, or pray that something would bring him home…

* * *

A trade of all trades. A life for a life. A deal for a deal. It had been to save Dean, to keep Dean alive for Sammy. Dean was unaware of this, only that he was alive and shouldn't be. Only that when Dean awoke, his brother was there, hand clasping his. His father was there, smiling sadly.

He didn't remember anything of his comatose state, until Sam had touched his shoulder. His touch ignited Dean's skin, and he could feel Sam's hands on his face; on his chest; feel his breathing match his own.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam's warm voice melted over Dean in waves that gave him chills; he would just look at Sam, unable to say anything, just take in the loving concern on his little brothers face. He would swallow, choke; and shrug the hand off.

* * *

John's funeral was dark for all of them. A hunters burial, burn and salt the bones; give the spirit time to move on, to be cleansed.

Dean couldn't think, was numb, tired and cold. All he wanted to do was kill the son of a Bitch that killed his father; that took him away too soon. They were just becoming a family again.

Sam's strong arms slipped around his brother's waist, holding him back against his chest. It was the only reality that Dean felt; the only thing he craved to feel.

Their grief was one. They shared the same pain, shared the same guilt. It slithered through each of them, a snake ready to strike when hostility raised its head with testosterone and a few beers.

Frozen in time, with the fires of their father's funeral pyre burning into the night, they rested against each other; feeling whole and grief stricken at once. There was a tender kiss placed on Dean's temple; gentle words of "I'm here, big brother."

Sam hadn't thought, neither one had. He had just reacted to the same grief stricken power he felt from his brother, the same loss of a part of them that was now one with the powers that be.

They lay there that night, holding each other; tears streaming down their faces; as their father became ashes in front of them. In the morning, they wouldn't talk, they would push down and bury the feelings, hunt out their grief.

The supernatural didn't allow for denial. The moves set into place, the right time, the right place…


	3. Power of Emotion

**A/N: thanks for reading, please please review and enjoy:)**

* * *

_"This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill  
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will  
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain  
and a hundred percent reason to remember the name!" Fort Minor-Remember the Name_

* * *

Hostility took them over eventually. It was a natural thing when two beings are grieved for someone they loved so dearly. One felt guilty over everything they had ever said or done, the other hurt from the fact that his father had been his only guide, his source of what to do when things got tough.

Blame was cast all over the place, from pointing fingers to punches; bruised lips and damaged egos. Accusations that cut the air like a knife were thrown around, deep and slicing. Tears were shed, in private and away from each other.

The night they held each other was pushed away, buried under grief and years of resentment and anger. It was the one day that Sam decided to come out and tell Dean the truth that the connection between them rose up; strong and clear.

They stood facing each other, the air between them crackling, ready to ignite as the testosterone rose in each of them; harboring the urge to fight; the desire to kiss.

Dean listened carefully as Sam spit out how they both weren't fine, how they both had to deal with it. God Dammit, if Dean wouldn't talk to him about it, then maybe he should talk to someone else, or deal with it some other way.

Sam had watched from Bobby's window as Dean beat the life out of the wrecked Impala, feeling every ounce of anger inside him, writhing; squirming to be unleashed. With each hit the beat old classic took, tears of pain wrecked the younger man's body.

Then came the swift need, hard fast and overwhelming. It sent the senses into frenzy, blood cells rushing into places that they didn't need to be, pushing down the pain for thirty seconds; enough time to make Sam's heart quit beating.

He watched Dean stop beating the Impala, watched him hit his knees, the same clawing need wrestling his brother to the ground.

In a flash, he was downstairs; all will to stay away gone. Dean's hands were clutching gravel, as he choked on sobs that threatened to come out of him. He felt the heavy weight of a warm hand on the shoulder, stirring more than he could handle.

With sheer brute force he whirled, "Get the fuck off me!" His fist connecting with the jawline of his little brother.

They had fought before. They were brothers; punches insults, all of it was expected of them. Blood sometimes fought harder with each other than with anything else. It was something that nature, the powers that be had made, for each of them. A natural way to get out aggression and suffering.

This fight was different. It was violent, the link between them strengthening, instead of severing. With every punch and kick, every loud angry yell, it forced them closer and closer together.

Finally, bruised and bleeding; Sam had pinned his brother into the ground. Dean was struggling, fighting to be able to get back up, have his feet under him. Sam being 3 inches taller than him made it harder for him to fight his baby brother off.

"Enough, Dean! Enough!" Sam cried, before putting his face mere inches from Dean's.

* * *

Time may not allow for denial, but it sure stopped for this moment. The breath between them hitched, shimmered, as if a ghost had just walked through that space, interrupting that second of time.

Each man gazed into the other, a smattering of greens and hazel intermixing with hot need, sweltering anger. They were bloodied, mangled, and desperate to get over this dull throbbing ache that never went away.

He used his knees to pin Dean's arms, slowly taking his hands away from them. Dean was still tense, but something told the younger Winchester that he wouldn't be fighting.

He used one finger, just one; to trace the smudges of dirt on his brother's face. One finger to circle around the black eye he had caused, one pad of the index finger to wipe the blood from Dean's chapped and tender lips.

Dean closed his eyes, for simply this second all he needed was Sammy. Dean swore some days he didn't have a heart that beat within him. Sam's did. One touch from Sam, and his heart beat with love, with need, in rhythm with each other.

The sun blared down on their backs, mingling with the warming heat between them. It was the first time that neither one could deny this unacceptable yet right pull that rested there day in and day out.

Dean nearly lost all emotional control when he felt Sam's soft lips coming into contact with his forehead, when he felt Sam's hand touch his heart.

"I have you, big brother. I always will." The gentle tenors of Sam's voice rattling through him, making him tremble with fear; with a want to just be closer.

"Your-Your not close enough." His voice was raspy and odd sounding, desperate to his ears.

Sam's lips lingered on his forehead, scraping down to his temples, heading to Dean's angled jaw.

* * *

It was the footsteps of Bobby that stopped that almost kiss that so close yet so far away moment.

Bobby had watched from the doorway, had caught the little sparks of attraction, crackling anger, with each punch thrown. He had allowed the brothers to continue on, only because it was needed. Getting over John wasn't going to happen in a day.

What Bobby wasn't expecting to see was the tendrils of gold and silver that slipped between the two boys. They couldn't see them, he was sure of that; somewhere he knew they could feel it. Bobby knew what it meant. It had been predicted a long time ago, John had suspected it from the beginning, from the moment Sammy had been placed into Dean's four old arms.

Each move had to be carefully placed. His surrogate sons teetered on a slippery edge, one wrong push and both would go over. Demons, angels, any powers that be knew this when the Winchester name was spoken.

He stopped in front of them, both boys looking up at him, startled. Shock and shame ran through their eyes, mixed with a hiss of anger for the interruption. Denial took its place immediately, Sam backed off Dean, feeling the crushing pain of not being close enough.

He spit blood onto the ground, waiting for the slew of harsh words and lectures. It never came.

"Idgiots. If you're done nearly killing each other, go get cleaned up. We have work to do."

It was the simple acceptance of what he had just seen that had both brothers whirling with a strange sense of what the hell? Neither one wanted to bring it up, each afraid of the others feelings; of the insecurities and dangers that encircled this feeling that had always been there; but was getting harder and harder to resist.

Dean rose up from the ground, Bobby's hand reaching down for him. His eye's met Sam's, and any sort of torturing emotions he had melted away within that second. He wanted to take away the crevice between them now; although he was unsure of how to do it.

He touched Sam's shoulder as he walked past, allowing his hand print to seal and burn itself into his brothers olive skin. He knew it would linger, and he wanted it to. Sam had touched him not once, but twice now in a week.

It was Dean's turn, and Sam watched his brother limp away, an ache filling so deep within him he wanted to cry.

Bobby studied his adoptive son, before he touched Sam's arm.

"Come on, Sam. Let's get ya cleaned up."

Bobby smiled when Sam's footsteps followed him; sure he had made the right move…


	4. Etheral Dreams

_**A/N: I want this story to be beautiful and impacting just like the brothers...so I am sorry if it is slow, and it will come to fruition in due time. Please Enjoy and review :)**_

* * *

_"I will not lose you to a world that doesn't care  
To the monsters that would have you.  
Never surrender you, I always will be there  
I will be there to wrap myself around you  
I will not lose you to the dark or to the nights  
To the terrible machine  
Never let you lose your light" Too Late-Ashes Divide_

* * *

Fire always surrounded them; an ever growing inferno that chased them every step of their journey. At times it was hidden, lying down in the shrouds of darkness just waiting to strike. Sometimes the blaze of a hunt, the luminosity of their emotions would consume them, causing the flames between them to grow.

He had all but pulled Sam from the suffocating heat twice, the raging twisting conflagration that would surely take his baby brothers life had he not been there. Dean could handle the rapid oxidation's that would take flesh and scorch it. He didn't know how to handle this fire, how to handle the slow burning coals inside his brother.

His visions were getting worse, getting harder to control; harder to understand. All Sam knew was that he was meant to be some Demon's child that he was meant to become evil, become something that he knew would eventually kill his own brother. The thought ate Sam up like wildfire eating parched trees and dried brush.

Dean didn't know how to tell Sam he wasn't a killer, he wasn't like them. He was the heart that beat inside of Dean, the one thing that kept him centered in reality and kept him clinging to life. He would shrug off whatever Sammy would say, throw in some cocky comment and keep going.

Whenever the visions hit, they seared Sam's head like a torturing brand; sending waves of pain through him. It was always Dean's hand that would pull him through; the rough callous of palm that would keep Sam from completely flying off the deep end. Dean's concern laced voice would remind him the pain would end soon.

It was in this thought alone that Sam felt complete, knowing in the shadows, the presence of Dean Winchester would help him weather the storm.

* * *

The supernatural does not allow for denial, so it will throw a curve ball that will no longer allow it to exist.

It had been far too long, since either one had acknowledged the feelings between them. As was designed, they did it automatically; in subtle touches to the shoulders, in the way they said the other's name. Quiet looks that the other wouldn't see, soft smiles that lingered to long. Natural and beautiful, flowing completely of its own will, but not enough for the connection between them to be satiated.

Jo was an interruption in their little duo that didn't sit well with either brother. Dean found the young blondes subtle little moves annoying; considering that she was more of a burden then an asset. Sam was fighting the raging jealousy in him, as Jo tried to take over his role; take over his place next to Dean.

It was the night they were sleeping in the makeshift living room, that Dean felt the discomfort of the recliner needling him further into the desire he was feeling. Slowly standing up, he edged up to his sleeping brother, the 6'4 frame crunched on the couch so Jo could sleep in the bedroom.

He knelt down in front of the couch, emerald green usually sharp with instinct and focus, now softened by sleep, a gentle tenderness crossing the guarded features of a face so resolutely masked that it would only take soft hidden moments like this before it would break.

The rise and fall of Sam's chest was like a siren's song, a beautifully woven rhythm that tugged the heart closer, until it took one into places that were unfathomable. Dean found that he couldn't resist the call, and didn't know if he wanted to.

He rested his head on Sam's chest; the gently thumping of his heart thrumming into Dean's ears; into his core, like the chords of a guitar on a soothing song; wrapping one up in a humming lullaby. He laid one hand next to his head, allowing delicate fingers to draw soft circles on the muscled chest that rested beneath him.

Sam's breathing changed, a blurry awareness that someone was resting atop of him, sending every fiber of his being into a gentle flow of want, a need to touch. A warm hand reached down and stroked fingers through brown spiked hair, a realization that his big brother was resting on him, finally coming through a dream filled mind.

"Dean."

Chills arched up his spine at the sleepy soft voice that spoke his name with such emotion it could cause an ache in the belly. Had anyone other than the two brothers heard the word spoken, it would have caused the throat to close up, tears to fill, emotions with just one word enough to overwhelm.

"I'm here Sammy. I'll always be here."

He neither moved nor blinked, the ache in his chest quickly becoming obsolete, nonexistent. He felt Sam's arms lift him up, placing him atop the younger Winchester.

In that one movement, did the world shift; colliding into heart and soul, a sweet clash of gold with silver, mingling into one. They didn't breath for just a second, relishing the feel of being against each other, without grief, without pain; perfectly entwined in another.

The palm of Sam's hand rested on Deans back, rubbing up and down in soft sweeping strokes. Dean closed his eyes, allowing the feel of his brother's body to lull him to sleep.

"Mine, Sammy. They can't have you. I'll find a way to save you." He murmured softly. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Sam smile.

"Sleep big brother." Was all the taller man said, shifting Dean up until he rested under Sam's chin, until he was close enough for Sam's being to feel satisfied.

For just this night, the brothers submitted to each other, all denial gone from the mind, in quiet dream lost sleep.

* * *

Morning sun would warm the back of Dean; causing him to stir, then to understand that he was currently sleeping atop his brother. It was painful, excruciatingly so, to pull off Sam, removing the loving big arms from around him; to crawl back to the cold leather recliner.

Sam groaned in pain when he felt his big brother pull off him, the sun burning his eyes and causing him to awaken. Hazel eyes looked to the recliner, where Dean had contorted his way onto the chair, attempting to sleep.

He stretched, pulling out the kinks in his back and neck as he stood; trying to suffocate the sadness that threatened to claim him. He walked past the recliner, brushing a hand through Dean's hair, needing just once more to feel.

Denial would set in in the form of Jo, in the excuse of getting coffee; in the belief that last night was a dream, a magnificent sweet ethereal dream….


	5. Infections of Gravity

_**A/N: I want to thank you for the reviews, as they are what keeps me going, the plot will be explained in later chapters, but I hinted at it in this. Enjoy :)**_

* * *

_"I wanna see you _

_As you are now _

_Every single day _

_That I am living _

_Painted in flames _

_A peeling thunder _

_Be the lightning in me _

_That strikes relentless" What If the Storm Ends?-Snow Patrol_

* * *

Perhaps things would have stayed the same, denial stilling running amidst the two brothers; had it not been for the crossroads demon.

Her words etched themselves inside Dean's memory; where they stayed; haunting and ever real. The more they echoed, Dean felt himself being pushed further into the desire to be close to Sam. It was as if their odd little connection got stronger with every grief filled challenge; every painful truth spit out to tear them apart.

Something in this Supernatural world wasn't going to allow them to deny this much longer; so it gave them another push.

This time, it was Sam's life that was ending, with a demonic infection that would turn someone feral within three hours of blood contact.

They faced each other, in a locked room; tears streaming down Sam's face. Dean held his gun, silver cold against the fingers; razor green not letting his little brother out of their line of vision. He talked about being tired, about not wanting to hunt anymore, the desire to live gone.

"Dean, what? Why not? It's not just dad-" Sam asked quietly.

A simple explanation was all that was needed; a quick brush off would have satisfied the younger Winchester's curiosity, Dean found the lump in his throat was too big to answer with an emotionless statement.

Where words cannot speak, so often actions can.

Not even fifteen seconds bridged the physical gap between them, yet it felt like an eternity before he was right in Sam's personal space; gazing into the devastated hazel that was begging him to just run out that door, leave him alone to die by his own hand.

Strong work worn hands cupped Sam's face in them, causing the younger man's breath to hitch, to pause in mid devastating sob. The blue green hues never left Dean's face, never wavered as a thumb slowly scraped a cheek bone.

Tender chapped lips pressed onto the bridge of Sam's nose, right between the eyes; the smell of mint and whiskey hitting his senses. Electrical currents of warm desire rose in the belly, overpowering every other reaction that would have caused turmoil, denial or fright.

Dean moved forward, pressing his body further into Sam's. The automatic reaction was obvious, heat that was unaltered settling between them like fire in the home hearth. Masculine arms reached around the lower spine, pinning the older man into him; a vise unwilling to let go of the one thing it craved since its conception.

Dean's mouth leaned close to Sam's ear, breath tickling as he whispered, "Because I can't live without you."

Sam felt the weight of what had just been said, as if he were Atlas ready to hold the world on his shoulders; even as his older brother rested his head on the broad one belonging to him. Sam felt how much Dean was carrying in just those words.

A turn of the head caused his own lips to graze the temple, one of his favorite places on Dean's skin, brushing back and forth in a comforting manner, speaking volumes of how much that one statement meant.

"Dean you-"

Any response was abruptly halted, as wild knocking on the door caused them to push apart, to release the infinite peace they felt within each other; letting go of the one thing that kept them both alive…

* * *

Separation becomes harder and harder each time, an intricate razor that carves scars and patterns across the soul, bleeding out the heart as it cries out for the anguish to end.

This anguish wouldn't end with death, for even there if one is not complete hell is more potent. Sam felt like with every step he took away from Dean, he was being ripped into a thousand shattered pieces.

Perhaps it was better this way, Dean wouldn't be burdened with the feelings he held for Sam; that there were those hidden the veil that knew it; and the knowledge that he would have to kill his baby brother if he couldn't save him. Sam was releasing his burden, allowing it to die with the rain that soaked his hair.

The world in which the brothers belonged to often twisted things for a sick sense of pleasure, or for a lesson so potent it would brand itself on the soul, heart and mind.

Sam knew when he called Dean that there was something wrong; as if sniper rounds coming through his hotel room didn't explain to him in a very life flashing way.

The scourge in his soul propelled him to knock on death's door, to claim back what he somehow knew belonged to him. He couldn't handle the disunion anymore; even if it meant he couldn't hold Dean, at least just working with him gave the Stanford dropout some sense of completion.

He had already been warned of the trip wires, already been warned that if he was not careful the rescue of Dean would end in him being blown into fragments.

Through the smoke, he could hear Dean's gag pained cries, the pain rippling through Sam with each jagged breath. White hot flashes of rage snapped behind his eyes, as he stepped forward and placed the barrel of his own gun against Gordon's head.

Taunting words were meant to have him pull the trigger, to show big brother Dean Sam really was a killer; rip them apart further. Inextinguishable will power had that trigger finger knocking Gordon out, instead of turning him into a bloody mass of flesh.

Tender fingers fought through the knots on the ropes, each one releasing his brothers pained joints. Dean tore the gag from his mouth, grabbed Sam and pulled him up to eye level.

Blood smeared Sam's cheek, running down the porcelain skin like a red tear, only to drop in the floor in silent despair. Fistfuls of Sam's collar held Dean as close as he would allow himself, denial still fresh in his mind, even as an absentminded finger smeared the blood away, even as his lips craved to feel Sams.

* * *

It would be in the Impala that gravity would have a mind of its own, would weave action that weren't meant to be seen outside Baby's black doors.

"If you ever take off like that again-"

"You'll what? Kill me?" Sam laughed, even as Dean glared.

Sam looked out the window again, unaware of the side long glances of longing and worry that graced the older brothers features. Dean felt his right hand twitch, wanting to reach out and just touch the brunette giant in front of him.

He finally gave in, his hand finding the palm that rested in place between them; limp and relaxed.

As soon as their hands touched, silver and gold sparked through them, melding into a molten canopy of emotions bubbling over.

Dean was surprised by the way Sam's hand enveloped his, surrounded it, as if he were the very encasing of his heart, making him one with his brother. A thumb stroked his knuckle, a reassurance; that he was staying, that the forces around them could throw everything at them, it wouldn't matter.

It was that simple touch that allowed Dean to relax for just this drive, just this second, to not worry about anything, as long as the heart of him rested beside him.

On this night, the touch was enough to slide forward, to begin the next day over with fresh eyes, fresh will...

The Supernatural does not allow for peace, does not allow for Denial..


	6. Taken of One

_**A/N: Your reviews are absoultly wonderful and mean so much to me..I truly hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry it has taken so long to update :)**_

* * *

_"And I know we go deeper than skin but what lies within  
It's still deeper than we know_

And for all this pantomime  
You should see the state I'm in  
I couldn't heal myself with time alone  
I have you tattooed on my skin" Skin-Poets of the Fall

* * *

Time has a mind of its own, has a way of slowing down or speeding up; almost in tune with our desires, our deepest fears.

In this old mansion motel, time had definitely begun to take its deafening toll, beating the young Sam Winchester into a state of gloom, of a painful reality that even right in front of his nose; he could save no one.

He craved Dean, hungered for the rough exterior that told him he was full of bullshit, that he still had a soul; wasn't the yellow eyed man's puppet, never would be.

Right now, he was alone; feeling lost in a never ending fog, in a world where he was just waiting to make the wrong move, so his beloved brother could kill him with one shot from a silver gun.

Then the whiskey began to look good, a narcotic to the pain. It reminded him of Dean, of the ever warm whiskey breath, of his skin. In this hour; the alcohol felt like home.

That was when Dean found him; sitting in a chair; sulking at nothing. At first, it was almost indistinguishable that he was drunk, until the words, "Your bossy." Spit out of Sam's mouth.

Eyes full of fury looked straight at the bar, then over at Sam, disbelief radiating off his older brother. Sam hardly ever got drunk; Dean felt deep within his core, that something was bothering him, keeping him down in a pit.

It wasn't until Sam grabbed his face in drunken desire, needing to feel Dean for just this second, begged him, with those soft Hazel eyes to end it, to kill him, that Dean understood with a punch to the gut, what was eating him alive.

"Don't ask that of me Sam." The words came out broken, muffled; as his brother's breath lingered to close, yet not close enough to Dean's face.

"Dean, you're the only that can do it. Please, Promise me, Dean." Sam's beautifully slurred words were like little needles in a heart already full of holes, ready to end its beat, if it wasn't for the soft golden thread that tethered him, blanketed him in Sam.

"I promise, come here."

"Thanks, Dean."

Sam was pushed lightly down on the bed, in which the younger giant promptly passed out as a mop of brown hair hit the pillow. Dean sat there, eyes on the soft skin of Sam's lower back, wishing nothing more than to fix whatever was wrong.

Hands that had put the Impala back together piece by piece now ran themselves across warm skin, swept over the vertebrae; wanting to do nothing more than piece the shards of his broken brother back to the way they were, if only by wrapping him around himself.

"If I could stop time, this would end…" Dean all but whispered to the exposed skin that now rested under warm lips. He wanted nothing more than for this picture, moment; to never end, to stay here trapped in a haunted motel, with his brother covered in his protective embrace, and he encased in the heart that was his conscious, his reason for not going psychotic and killing every mother fucker he saw.

Dean made to pull away, as his lips procrastinated with letting go of skin to skin contact, like he had no control over what they desired.

Emerald vision finally saw what Uncle Bobby had seen months ago, silver ribbons coming from him; pouring into Sam like a molten liquid ready to be molded. Shock filled his being, and the drunken man jolted as if he felt it to.

"Dean." Spoken in a tequila lead sleep, Sam's hand reached out and clasped Dean's wrist, keeping him still, calming him enough to not react in rash manners typical of Dean, but to think like Sam, with heart instead.

Warmth disappeared as the hand let go, leaving a burning sensation where it once had been; leaving Dean to wonder about what the hell he just saw.

Time released then, and a drink seemed to be this answer for this night, with no answers in the morning.

* * *

They were running out of time, running out of options. Trapped in steel, surrounded by FBI, with a gun toting man who had done their tracking for them, now laying dead due to Sniper fire.

Dean wiped the sweat from his palms; as the phone now hung up seem to glare menacingly at him. He had just told an FBI agent that he was Clyde, Sam his Bonnie.

Part of him wanted to know what was the matter with him, why he had even confirmed the suspicions of the agent. the other part of him, felt a thrill at the possessive tone, at the fact that he had just subconsciously stated Sam belonged to him.

He turned when he felt two hands on his shoulders, facing the angered hazel eyes of his brother, as if he had just been caught with his hands in a cookie jar.

"Take me?" Sam said, through gritted teeth. "You could have been killed, Dean."

The compulsive jerk forward sent Dean colliding into Sam's muscled chest, into Earth, musk, and heart. He was responding before he realized he was, hands sliding around Sam's waist.

"I wasn't, Sammy. We don't have time for this, we need to find the shifter and get out. FBI is on our tail, they know all about us. Come on."

Dean was ripped back, not missing the overshadowing look in shimmering hazel, the fierce grip of his brother's hands on his collar, or how close Sam's lips had just gotten to his.

"Why didn't you ask me to take you? I would have gone with you."

Neither missed the double meaning; a meaning so deep that both boys had a hard time wrapping survival minds around the sputtering want erupting in between them.

"Sam-"

Sam leaned forward, placing lips on Dean's nose; eyes never leaving the wide green radiance belonging to his brother, even as his mouth moved to capture the others in what would be a much needed release.

Thoughts went hazy when they were this close, when they blended so well into each other, knowing each move, feeling it, communicating without even needing to speak.

They were running out of time, so Dean pushed away, mind still struggling to survive the next twenty four hours, that they made it out alive. Then then, he could have Sammy.

"Later, Sammy." He said, gruffly, forcing himself to turn away, to fight the never ending pain that resounded in him whenever he was away from Sam, away from the gold that enshrouded him.

The vault door opened, and time was of the essence.

* * *

They faced off in a hotel room, eyes locked in a desperate fight of wills. The same arguments, always a resounding theme with them as of late, always kill Sammy.

Dean knew something was off about his brother, when had had seen the video tape of him killing another hunter, in a blind rage that didn't exist in the heart of Samuel Winchester, and if it did, he hadn't seen it.

When Sam handed him the gun, placed the cold metal of his .45 into his palm and said, "You promised me, Dean."

Dean's control nearly snapped, he nearly threw Sam down, pinned him underneath him, just to show him he wasn't going to kill him, that he would save him with the protective love he felt, even if it meant he died in the process.

Something inside him, some sort of strange instinct kept telling him that the burning hazel he saw wasn't his Sammy, but something else, something sinister and dark.

He threw the gun down on the bed, swallowing the tight emotions in his chest, before saying. "I'd rather die."

Sam didn't say anything for a few minutes, before Dean noticed that Sam had picked up the gun. "No. You will live, live to regret this."

The last thing Dean saw was the evil smirk on his brothers face.

* * *

He had kidnapped Jo, nearly cut her to shreds. Still Dean wouldn't shoot. He had shot Dean, and still Dean didn't shoot.

Now he was beating the life out of his brother, watching as the beautiful man in front of him began to bleed from the nose, the mouth, the eye. He watched as Dean said nothing, while Sam, continually hit him, while the Demon inside him smothered the warm connection between them, tried to snuff it out.

Had it not been for Uncle Bobby, had it not been for the fact that Meg had forgotten about him, Dean would have been dead.

Sam leaned against the bookcase, holding his jaw, his eyes quiet and sad. Dean should have shot him, should have killed him, yet he hadn't.

Bobby watched the ache between the bleeding boys, watched as they patched each other up, and tried to move forward; despite the darkness surrounding them.

He noticed what had once been light tendrils of gold and silver, were now thick and braided ribbons that erupted through them whenever they touched, as if it had gotten stronger with each challenge they faced.

Denial needed to be over, so he kicked them out, told them to get moving…get gone before other hunters came to look for them…

He smiled as they left, once again the right move, the right place.

* * *

Baby's engine hummed softly as they cruised down the highway, Sam to quiet for Dean's liking.

He tried talking to Sam, but his little brother was unresponsive, trapped in a world of guilt and pain that made the black hole in Dean even bigger.

"Sam? Sam, is that you in there?" He said, quietly.

Blue green irises met his, smiling softly.

"Why didn't you shoot?"

"It wasn't you, Sammy."

"Not this time. Next time, it could be me. It's my destiny. Dad knew it."

"Sam, dad only asked me to shoot you if I couldn't save you."

"How do you plan on saving me?" Sam retorted.

"I don't know, but I will die before I stop trying. "

Dean jerked the wheel, pulling the car over to the side of the road, turning Baby's lights off and her engine, full on facing Sam.

Stormy green met guilty hazel, and enough was enough. Dean grabbed him roughly, pulling him in, encircling him in the protective aura that was ever around Dean.

Tender fingers traced the bruise of Dean's jaw, before the hand was slapped down and held into the black leather bench seat.

"No-I know how I can start saving you."

"How?" Sam swallowed, senses focusing on Whiskey and mint, on the feeling of home that resided within Dean, was Dean.

"Like this."

It wasn't swift or rough; it wasn't anything that would be expected of the bad ass big brother.

All heart, vulnerable warm lips kissed a large forehead, fingers brushing brown bangs out of the way, to better see hazel go into shock, then light with want.

He moved slow, kissing cheekbones; along the bridge of the nose, down to the jaw line. Finally, in sweet sweet time, his mouth took in Sam's.

Silver and gold flared up around them, encircling them in a fire hot warmth that pulled them deeper into each other, into eternity's that only Angels and Demons knew of.

Their world exploded in warm colors, blues of sky, greens of Earth, melting into each other, molding a different hue, a different form of being.

They felt the power fold and form as they pressed closer together, felt it pull them deeper into the others being, until oxygen was nothing more than an option.

It was if Chrono's himself had allowed to time to stop, had given them this moment, this realization.

Sam eased back, just enough to see silver inflected with green, to see a wholeness that had always been there, but never acknowledged.

Mouth slightly swollen, Dean smiled softly.

"It's about time, I say." He started the car again, ready to drive forward, to continue their journey.

He felt Sam begin to slide over, an unbearable need to have him nearly on top of Dean, had him jerking him back with one arm.

"Stay, stay next to me…please."

Saying nothing, the younger Winchester rested his head against his big brother's shoulder, a hand on his leg, where he could feel Dean's pulse, hear his heartbeat in his chest, one with his own.

"Thank you." He said softly, tenor speaking volumes of what he was trying to convey.

All the older man did was place his free arm around Sam, just reveling in feeling complete.

The Supernatural does not often grant blessings, and sometimes it will take away what it can give.

It does not allow for denial nor time to rest...


	7. Bullets of Silver, Laced in Gold

**A/N: Please forgive my lack of updating, and my slowness. My mother passed away on October 12, 2012. This week has felt like it has been frozen in time. As such, I dedicate this chapter to her. Please review and enjoy. :)**

* * *

_"Hush now, don't you cry  
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye  
You're lying safe in bed  
It was all a bad dream  
Spinning in your head  
Your mind tricked you to feel the pain  
Of someone close to you leaving the game of life  
So here it is, another chance  
Wide awake you face the day  
Your dream is over... or has it just begun?" Silent Lucidity- Queensryche_

* * *

It had been expected that there would be awkward tension, that one of them would regret their kiss, regret that moment in the Impala, where vulnerability met in a clash of warm heated colors.

Engraved into everything they did it had become, running through their veins with their blood; causing the brothers to feel everything the other did; unmixed, unclouded, compressing in on them; as if that one flash of memory had made them all the more connected.

Neither of them wanted to release that closeness; to let it slip away with deep feeling conversations and must have talks about where it was leading.

So denial once again played into their mind, while the Supernatural sent something they couldn't handle their way.

* * *

Little things started happening at first, things that would let them to believe it was a usual college hall haunting.

Until the Alien Abduction happened.

All of the sudden, they were thrown into chaos, brother against brother in a petty war of tiny fights that didn't matter.

Sam's lap top went missing, it was Dean's fault.

Baby's tires were flattened, it was Sam's fault.

As it were, the choice to confront Sammy had put them into a near brotherly wrestling match, until the heat upon their skin sizzled, crackling to life with the close contact as Sammy tackled his brother onto the bed, pinning him there.

One long leg wrapped around his big brothers waist, holding him in a sidelong position, rendering him useless as two muscular arms pinned his.

"Give it back, Dean." Sam said gruffly.

"No. Get off me." Hues of green turned to glare at the taller man, whose expression had softened.

Dean found that he shivered when his brother's breath came close to his ear, when he could hear the slight pant that came from grappling earlier, the way the anger coursed through him like a stream of hot liquid.

"I said give it back."

There was a swallow from the older Winchester, as he fought to remain stubborn against the pained younger one he was now underneath, even as that warm breath moved down to his neck.

Sensitive lips pressed into the carotid artery, where pulse could be found, where life or death was determined. Here, Sam could feel the rapid heartbeat; the soulful gasp, intake of breath that let him know that he had hit the right spot.

Dean groaned, allowing the money clip to fall from his now limp hand, as Sam kept himself pressed into him, unwilling to release what he wished to be melded to.

Both boys would rather not move, rather not have this brief second of tranquility ripped away from them so they could get back to the chaos that was slowly driving them mad, neither knowing which was up which was down.

Dean relaxed into Sam, breathed in as his arms were released, as blood rushed back into them, allowing freedom of movement. Before he could return any affection, Sam's arms enveloped his waist; pulling him closer, breath still causing small waves of pleasure on his neck.

He would have moved, would have forced himself away from Sammy, denied that a childish match had once again led them into each other, as if there were a message there. Dean found himself to content to fight it, too tired to even try; so he rested in his little brothers arms, eyes closing in a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The implications of what happened were hidden from Uncle Bobby, although the other man could clearly see it from two miles away. Even as they sat glaring at each other, both nursing beers; he could see the change in them.

Bobby smirked to himself; knowing that sooner or later, it would come up, it would be talked about. Revelations of this sort took time; even then they were a risk. Both men had to accept what they were to each other, what they meant, before anything else could happen. The bond between them had to grow into an irresistible urge to become one; then and only then could it be explained.

They were getting there, ever slowly; they were getting there.

Instead, he chose to help them, to give them the oh so obvious answer that was sitting right in front of them. They were dealing with a trickster, a demi god who loved deadly pranks, and he had decided the Winchester brothers were his food for thought; his way to rip them apart.

A plan was concocted, as if they were in a play, acting their parts to trap the trickster into a position of uselessness in order for them to destroy it.

It worked with an almost flawless execution, with the exception of some bruises, broken pride; and much apologizing.

Sammy was the first one to speak after they fled the building, a bloodied trickster covering the college theater in red. He leaned up against the passenger side of the Impala.

Guilt ridden gold spattered hazel gazed at his older brother, longing to just heal the wounds that he had laid there with all the blame and almost kid like fights that weren't necessary.

"Dean, about, I'm I-" He struggled with words to convey what he would rather show. Just wrap Dean up and keep him next to him, safe in the pure silver light that was his brother.

"Sammy me to." Dean reached a hand across the black polished hood, eager for touch he needed so desperately within him.

Inside Baby; Bobby saw the now thicker strands entwine themselves around each other in a braiding effect; as fingertips grazed one another. As beautiful as it was, he had to interrupt; had to get them out of there.

"Awe, yer breaking my heart. Can we get out of here?"

Both boys turned crimson, reminded that they had a guest; an ally that had stopped the Supernatural from killing them, and he needed to be spared their oddities.

The doors closed, engine roaring as they sped off into a night unknown, into the next dark thing in their path.

* * *

_"I- will be watching over you  
I- am gonna help you see it through  
I- will protect you in the night  
I- am smiling next to you, in Silent Lucidity" Silent Lucidity-Queenscryche_

* * *

He hadn't expected Madison. He hadn't expected the devastation that would take place from having to kill her, from ending her existence as both human and wolf.

He watched helplessly as she begged Sam to end her life, to stop the pain. It had to be him. He had watched over her, slept with her, tried to save her. In her mind, he should be the one who ended her.

Even when he took the gun from Madison's shaking hand, he felt more than saw the storm of emotions that trampled through his brothers body like a stampede during a dry lightning storm.

Malachite eyes reached into tear filled hazel, pulling him away from the beautiful woman in front of him; the one resigned to her death, her fate.

He could fill the tangled webs of the constant fight they seemed to have, always ending with him having to waste Sam, always ending with the same, "Their monsters and I'm not?" response.

It hit closer to home this time, to close for Dean's liking. He could hear the thoughts in his brother's head, wanting to end his own life, stop the monster clawing inside of him to come out in more vicious ways than a werewolf.

He offered to do it for him, offered to take that weight away from Sammy, to shield him from taking another's life.

Sam refused; as droplets of water spilled onto soft cheeks, as the broken riddled voice told him that he was right, that he had to do this, she asked him.

He reached for the gun, taking it from Dean.

"Just stay here, okay?"

He stayed. For once in his life, he stayed frozen to the spot, feet unable to lift off the floor; any feeling leaving him as if his soul had just been taken by the Grim Reaper himself.

The crack of the .45 going off caused one single tear to run down his face, feathering in with the skin that covered his skull.

Were it not for how quickly Sammy fled past him, barely noticing Dean, his brain may have never told him to move, to catch Sam, to comfort him before he had a chance to slip further away.

* * *

Laying curled in the fetal position seemed to be the only way to bring warmth to his core. Even after a hot and biting shower, even after his skin was tinged pink, he couldn't get warm.

Guilt, sheer utter remorse burrowed itself deep inside him, putting him in a hazy mind set.

He couldn't save her.

Another one he couldn't save.

On top of that, he had slept with her.

Even as they made love, Sam had felt Dean. As if Dean was lying next to him, riding the same pleasure he was, whispering little tips on how to make it better.

It freaked him out, scared him.

Some twisted part of him, loved it.

In that one night, after he curled up next to her, he head realized that he only wanted to wake with Dean next to him; wanted nothing more than the scent of whiskey and mint to be what he breathed in.

When she had turned, he knew right away what had to be done.

He fought it, argued with Dean, tried to Barter.

Then those soft brown eyes had asked him to pull the trigger.

The calloused hands of his brother had offered to take that burden, lift it off his shoulders.

Sam wouldn't allow it. This was his job, he would see it through.

So he did.

Now he lay here, unable to get warm, ashamed and guilt ridden, sleep evading him.

The door clicked open, and then shut tight with an audible snap.

Combat boots crossed the floor, before the heavy weight of Dean slid in beside his brother.

Dean could smell the husky scent of Earth, feel the brokenness inside his own heart, as if it belonged to him.

Sam physically shivered next to him, hair still damp from a shower he had insisted his little brother take, before allowing him to collapse on the bed, so he could get food.

He bought whiskey instead.

Now, it lay forgotten on the night stand, as Dean slipped arms around the moose in front of him, tugging him as close as he could to his body.

He knew when Sammy still trembled it wasn't enough.

Letting go, he sat up once more; pulling off his shirt, letting it cover the floor.

"Sam, turn over."

The young Winchester didn't say anything; just did as he was told.

Bewilderment crossed his features as Dean's expert laden hands pulled off the thin cotton t-shirt that covered every ounce of toned muscle on his brothers chest.

Dean fought down the desire that threatened to consume him; to force him into drowning himself in Sam, into taking what he needed as if Sammy was the oxygen he breathed.

Enthralled, warmed hands placed themselves on Sam's chest, causing him to hiss in his breath as silver laden heat warmed him, leaking into the soul that had become so cold.

In a blinding motion, he had Sam back on his side, back curled up against him.

Covers wrapped them up, as one palm splayed itself on the tight abs that carved out his brother's midsection, keeping him position against Dean.

The scent of Earth, of heart intoxicated Dean; as thick as any hot fired alcohol would. Their breathing evened, becoming one; each breath taken in at the same time, same second.

"Dean-I'm Sorry."

The contentment was broken by words, causing Dean to wince as he rested his forehead in between wide shoulder blades.

"For what, Sammy? You did well."

There was an audible swallow, before. "No, I didn't mean shooting her. I meant sleeping with her."

For a moment, no words were spoken; a pause that arced tension between them, an awkward moment. Dean didn't admit, refused to acknowledge that he had truly felt everything, had seen it like it was through Sam's eyes.

"Did she please you?"

When there was a small nod, the response was simply. "Then that's all that matters."

He heard Sam growl, then gasped when his brother pushed himself further into Dean, as if he could weld himself into him.

"She wasn't as good as you would be."

Dean felt himself smirk, pressing soft pedaled lips on the back of Sam's neck. "Damn right."

His lips coursed over the ridge of the shoulder blade, before placing themselves on Sam's neck, where Earths scent was the strongest, where it could hypnotize the most.

"Hey Sammy. Don't do it again." His voice was rough, feral; and he allowed just a little jealousy to lace through it.

Sam chuckled, reaching down to lace his fingers through Dean's; bringing that warm palm to his lips.

"I won't."

"Good. Now go to sleep, I'll always be here Sammy."

He lay awake, until their breathing deepened, until Sam was sound asleep; tying him to Sam like a chord holding onto the soul beneath.

"Mine." Dean whispered one final time, before sleep over took him, as his brothers scent lulled him to rest.

* * *

The supernatural allows lessons to bring us closer, to pull us apart.

Forces beyond our own understanding have many lessons they wish to teach….


	8. In My Blood, Of My Blood

**A/N: I apologize for the lapse in updates, dealing with mamas funeral and then her estate its been a trying week. Enjoy and thank you for you patience and your reviews. :)**

* * *

_"I think about you all the time_

_But I don't need the same _

_It's lonely where you are _

_Come back down _

_And I won't tell 'em your name" Goo-Goo Dolls-Name_

* * *

_"She wasn't as good as you would be…_"

Some words stay pressed into memory, like a meditative mantra when the world is crashing down.

It can be phrases that latch on and don't let go, tethering you to that one verse; keeping you holding on to hope.

He knew that this was a bad plan, but allowing them to be caught was the best way to be taken into prison, the best way to stop whatever spirit enjoyed stopping the hearts of guards and prisoners alike.

He could tell Sammy was having a hard time, even as they stood in line to get their bedding for cells, he could feel his little brothers brain in over drive; figuring out their escape; trying to understand why they allowed themselves to get caught by an FBI agent convinced that they were murderers.

While they murmured to each other about why this entity was preying on guards and their tenants; Dean couldn't get Sam's words out of his head.

They had been said so perfectly, each word pronounced enough to etch into everything he was, to linger softly with lust lacing their edges.

No matter what the older Winchester did, they haunted him like an imp attached to his shoulder.

Here, in this cold isolation cell, he allowed his eyes to close, allowed the denial to slip away as he pictured his brother's tall perfect form; imagined him wrapped in the golden light that was only Sam; while their skin made contact in ways he only dreamt of.

Dean felt his energy react, encircling him in his brothers own gold crowned energy, into the feelings of lust and love that rested so deeply it was hard to grasp if you weren't in it.

Along with his energy, came his body, tensing and releasing as the pressure built around him, in him.

Were it not for the cold rush of air, for the clock stopping on the wall, Dean would have stayed in his fantasy, in his dream that he knew Sammy could feel in his cell a million cell blocks away.

Dean sighed, letting go of the image; before turning to watch the next heart attack happen.

* * *

He hated fighting with Dean, hated being in this prison; hated even more how his beloved brother seemed to fit in with the others so easily and so well, why he stood on the outside like a big mother bear wanting to protect and shield him from the men looking at him as if he were a sweet morsel in which to eat barbarically.

Sam felt it the moment the damn spirit had touched his brothers heart, had tried to stop it with her supernatural voo doo.

He had even felt the emotions surging through him the night he was in isolation, the night she had first appeared to him.

His own phrase still bounced around in his head, giving way to a path that he never thought he would step onto and walk.

They had become so intricately connected that Sam sometimes couldn't tell where he began, where Dean ended.

Somehow even though he knew it should bother the life out of him, it didn't.

He relished it, cherished Dean like a prized possession, and never regretted what he said to him the night they held each other shirtless.

That had been the first night.

After that night, it was almost a consistent pattern for them to be sleeping next to each other with no shirts on, just feeling the others breathing matching their own.

Dean had gotten into the habit of placing his hand against Sam's stomach, resting it there. Since then, Sam found himself resting his own hand there when Dean wasn't near him, as if Dean's hand print became a permanent tattoo on his skin, never to be worn off or replaced by anything else; always reminding him that Dean was always around him somehow, ever guiding.

Now, he stood next to Dean as they watched flames burn the corpse of the crazy nurse bent on taking people's hearts.

Hazel heavy eyes shifted to where Dean's forest colored ones reflected orange and red.

Instinct had the younger Winchester moving towards his brother, slow even steps on the sodden ground.

He towered over Dean, just gazing down at the spiked brown hair that rested just two inches above his chin.

It took only a blink of an eye, before Dean turned to face his younger brother, questions in those beautiful emeralds.

A hand on the center of the leather jacket, a gentle tug forward; the answer was given.

This time, it wasn't soft and full of heart.

Fierce demands came from an aching mouth, which had been far away to long from silver light that kept him sane.

It was the race of calloused hands along his chiseled stomach that had Sam groaning out loud, had him nipping his brother's neck just to hear his hiss as it thundered through his blood.

He pulled Dean closer, feeling those hands move up from his stomach to his neck, locking around him like a clasp not willing to let go anytime soon, reveling in the pleasure of his brothers lips on his pulse.

"Sammy." Words came out in a hushed lust filled loving growl that had the younger man fighting for control.

Sam's own hands found themselves inside the leather, scrapping against the shirt that protected Dean's skin.

His fingertips brushed the hem of his shirt, scrapping along smooth warm porcelain, before pressing lightly on his brothers hips.

Sexual tension crisscrossed through the air; as if lightning had enveloped them in a strike so quick that they couldn't see the flames behind them spark higher, nor recognize they were in a graveyard.

The world around them evaporated, and everything shifted and aligned.

Dean involuntarily bucked against Sam, causing friction to come between them, as if they were going to start another fire.

Sam smiled as his teeth scraped collar bone, as Dean shuddered underneath him, paralyzed with pleasure.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean knew that this what he always wanted, and just as Sam's aching lust shot through him like a lance, so did the need; the desire to regain control and to have Sam take him in the right way, not in a graveyard with a corpse burning behind them.

"Sam. Erg, Sam- Stop." Dean's southern gritted drawl had Sam leaning back, still holding Dean by the hips, unwilling to release him, simmering hazel now puzzled.

"God dammit, Sammy. I want you, I want you bad. I won't let it happen here." Dean pointed. "In a graveyard, with a burning bitch-"

The finger to his lips followed by a soft kiss let Dean know that Sam understood, was grateful for the fact that Dean recognized where they were.

He felt the golden warmth of Sam's other hand unleash itself from his hip, only to be replaced with a bone chilling cold that made him want to jerk that hand back and keep it there.

Instead, it went to his own palm, capsuling and braiding itself around Dean's like a glove.

As they headed back to the Impala all Sam said was, "Dean, no more prisons, okay?"

Dean smirked. "You got it Sammy."

* * *

The supernatural allows for some reprieve, but often shows us what we wish for, what we don't want to see…

* * *

_"I Don't need to sing_

_Slowly where you are_

_Come back down,_

_I won't tell them your name." GooGoo Dolls-Name_

* * *

It wasn't right here. He had been hunting a genie, and the bastard had snuck up behind him.

Now he was in a world that wasn't right.

He was dating a model, his mother was alive and Sammy..

Sammy wasn't his anymore.

The connection between them, the ever changing hues of Gold and Silver that simmered and shook them to their cores; the one thing that seemed to keep them alive and addicted each other, wasn't there.

Whatever world the genie had thrust him in, he was no longer in the one he lived.

He had to admit to some degree, it was better here, Sammy wasn't hurting or in pain, nor was he some demons child.

But he was nowhere near close to Dean, and he was getting married.

To a Jessica that never got torched on the ceiling by a yellow eyed prick that targeted kids in nurseries.

Some part of his brain wanted him to stay here, to be happy with Carmen and watch Sam get married.

Another part of him wanted his Sam back and somewhere in that thought process came three simple words. "Kill the Genie."

It was when he pinned Sam for the second time that he knew he was making the right choice.

There was no spark, no flare; the world didn't freeze around them like it was supposed to. There was no desperate need for them to cling to each other, to want so desperately to be close.

Dean Winchester could feel it clawing inside him, aching to come out, to hold Sam and never let him go.

The cold malice in Genie Sammy's eyes deterred any movement in that direction, to the point of agony for Dean.

He smiled when he walked out that door, aware that somewhere he would get the back to his Sam

* * *

He wasn't surprised when engaged Sammy went with him.

Dean wasn't floored when he saw that he was going to die if he didn't get out of this wish world.

He wasn't shocked when every illusion the Genie cooked up came to beg him to stay.

He was surprised when cold biting air hit his lungs, when he breathed in and saw stars.

The warmth of energy that stemmed into his heart, allowing relief to run through his veins along with his blood; coupled with the warm hands that took him down from his chains, then into strong arms that just held him against a chiseled chest that was so close and so far away.

It wasn't until after Sam got Dean home, that the young Winchester realized how badly Dean had been damaged.

He was leaning on dresser, venting about how they weren't close and how he had wanted to stay, mainly because Sam wasn't hurting anymore.

Sam didn't miss the underlying hurt that they hadn't gotten along, that he had been happy and Dean...

He had suffered because the other Sammy didn't want him.

"I'm glad you didn't stay. Dean, what we do is important. We save lives. It's our works, dads work. I almost-"

"Almost what?" Darkened emerald eyes gazed straight at Sam, while lips took in the spice of beer.

Sam had to take a minute to just study Dean. Not even three hours ago, Dean had been a bloody barely alive mess, clinging to Sam like he was the life blood, the heartbeat of Dean.

Now, he stood in front his little brother, a handsome clean man still shaking from the Genie's little mind fuck.

It was everything that Dean recounted and everything Sam saw with his own eyes that made the moose realize exactly how close he had come to never seeing his brother again, never seeing him looking at Sam the way he was now, with a need so deep it cinched into his gut and held.

Yet again, it was the taller of them that moved, that took the two feet to be standing almost head to head with the other.

The beer bottle was taken from his hands, and the sound of glass scrapping onto wood echoed throughout the room, almost as if someone were trying to break in.

Neither one of them breathed, holding their breaths at the same time, just looking into swirls of blues and greens, mixing with silver and gold; a hypnotic trance that left the outside world gone.

When one hand laid itself on his cheek, and the other on his stomach, like he had done to Sam so many times, Dean nearly puddled to the floor.

He struggled for words as a thumb caressed his cheek bone, slowly tracing down to his lips. Shadowed over his lips, before resting on his chin stroking back and forth gently.

"Don't say anything Dean. You're in my blood, I feel everything you do. I almost lost you…"

Dean took over, lips nestling in for a soft kiss as his own hands pressed on Sam's stomach, lowering down to his hips.

Even as they lost themselves in tongue and warmth, in a slow delicate dance to taste each other, Dean managed to push his brother backwards, and onto the bed.

He knew Sam could overpower him, knew that this was an act of quiet submission, of being willing to be taken.

Sam didn't protest when his shirt was pulled up and over his head, when Dean's fingers traced every single line across his chest, over his nipples, to finally splay on his lower abdomen, to rest there, just above the waist band of his pants.

Sam groaned as his hands circled up Dean's biceps, before reaching the shoulders and all but nearly ripping Dean's shirt off.

They both groaned simultaneously when Dean lowered himself down, when chest met chest and his lips tore from Sam's to find the spot below his ear, just enough tongue to cause Sam to buck up a bit.

Neither brother had to ask each other how far they had to go, where to touch and when to.

As if a blueprint of each other's bodies were etched in their mind already memorized in their fingertips and lips, they knew just what to do.

It was like a teasing dance to them, as Dean's lips coursed down Sam's neck, while Sam's hands gripped and caressed Dean's back, each brother groaning in pleasure, but too scared to move it forward, becoming one to early would prove disastrous and they somehow knew that.

Dean found his lips in between Sam's pecks, slowly going down as a hand ran through his hair. "Dean.." Sam murmured softly, submissively.

The rush was dizzying, the feel of Sam's voice as ii vibrated his name through his body, into Dean's lips. He wanted Sammy, HIS Sammy, saying it again, moaning it in ways that would have him writhing.

Dean's lips brushed the hem line of Sam's jeans, the smell of leather and Earth coming to meet his nose.

He heard Sam hiss, felt that hands grab his biceps and pull him up, his head resting against Sam's chest heartbeat pounding into his ear, a signal that far was to far and right now was not.

He closed his eyes as Sam wrapped the itchy blanket around them, not letting Dean go. "Dean, lay here, on me all night…please, I-"

"Ok Sam. Sam….don't ever..-"

The touch of Sam's lips to his head told him everything he needed to hear, told him that he wasn't going anywhere and that tonight was Deans.

Dean snuggled down, placing his lips in tender kisses on Sam's chest, wrapped in golden light of Earthen warmth that he couldn't live without.

* * *

The supernatural often takes away what it can give… Such as life…


	9. To Smother His Light

_**A/N:I'm an evil bitch. This took me several days to write, because I wanted it to flow perfectly and intensely, to burn and make your breath hitch. Thank you for your reviews and your patience. Enjoy :)**_

* * *

_"It doesn't hurt me._

_You wanna feel how it feels?_

_You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?  
You wanna hear about the deal I'm making?" Placebo-Running up that Hill_

* * *

It was cold, so bitterly and bitingly cold.

There were no sounds, nothing to indicate that Dean, his Dean was anywhere around.

Hazel eyes snapped open in a panic when he realized he couldn't feel Dean. The silver light that surrounded him when he thought of Dean was gone, snuffed out.

Two questions crossed his mind as he raced to try and put puzzle pieces together.

Where the hell was he?

Where was Dean?

He stood up; the aches in his muscles letting him know that he had slept on hard ground last night.

He was surrounded by woods, in an abandoned town out in the middle of God Knows Where.

Sam knew it wasn't good.

Then he saw Andy.

All of the sudden, Sam knew that this was not going to end well, that all of them or one of them was going to die.

* * *

"SAMMMMM!"

His voice had gone hoarse, drying out from yelling all night.

Dean knew when he found the blood covered bodies, that his Sam was gone..

He had been taken, by something.

The golden heart of Sam that ran through Dean's blood all of the sudden wasn't there anymore. He didn't know why, but it shook him, shook him so bad he couldn't see straight.

Then he got angry.

Nothing, absolutely nothing would take Sam away from him.

So, he called the Roadhouse, and then he called Bobby.

Bobby knew, knew by the brokenness in Dean's voice that the Supernatural had finally done what it was meant to do..

All the pieces were in place, the right time…

Things were now set in motion…

* * *

Sam knew right away when he saw all of them that they were in big trouble.

All the gifted children, in one of the most Haunted towns of South Dakota…

Even as he kept them together, tried to teach them to beat this, he knew it would do no good.

When the first of them died by a hanging; Sam's pit of dread got wider.

He wanted Dean here, needed Dean here. He was trapped in a demon infested town, with children of a yellowed eyed Man.

Sam had forgotten that Andy could read minds that he had gotten better with his gifts over time, but now he needed Andy's help. And Sweet Andy, he was more than happy to oblige.

So they projected an image to Dean, in hopes that maybe if he was alive, he would get it, he would understand it.

Sam knew deep down that he would, it was his big brother Dean, he would come..

He always did.

* * *

He was leaning against the Impala, looking at the torched Roadhouse and a dead Ash.

That was when his head throbbed and he felt like he had just been smacked the Hammer of Thor.

He had always felt hints of pain when Sam had visions, but now; now he understood and he longed, ached and craved the tall form of his baby brother to be next to him.

When Bobby reached out for him, touched him; all he could describe was Sam, standing next to a bell, with a tree on it.

Bobby knew immediately where Sam was.

All of the sudden, Bobby hated the way the Supernatural was going with this…even if it was the right move.

Blue eyes looked into pained Emeralds.

"Dean, I know where Sam is."

* * *

He was now scared for his life, and devastated with more than he could handle.

The yellow eyed demon had come to him, told him that he was rooting for Sam, the new leader of his army.

On top of that, his mom had been killed only because she had been interrupting him, as he had fed Sam demons blood, gave him gifts he never wanted.

Worse, Dean wasn't something Sam needed to worry about anymore, according to the Yellowed eyed man.

Because every single one of them was now in their own show of "Survivor."

They would kill each other, just to become the leader of Demonic Army.

It didn't take long for him to find Andy with his heart ripped out of his chest, blood oozing on the floor, as the young woman who had helped him when he ran away from Dean stood there innocent and devastated.

Things clicked pretty quickly for him after that. Hazel eyes noticed the salt lines had been broken, noticed the salt resting on her fingers.

Within seconds, she had the Demon ready to tear Sam limb from limb, ready to shred him so she could become the best.

It only took to gun shots to take her out.

Now they stood facing each other, Sam and Josh; the last two standing.

Sam didn't want fight him, didn't want to kill him.

He wanted both of them to walk away, and for him to get back to Dean, only Dean.

He could tell by the look in Josh's eyes that it wasn't going to happen…

* * *

_You don't want to hurt me,_

_But see how deep the bullet lies.  
Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.  
There is thunder in our hearts, baby.  
So much hate for the ones we love?  
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?-_ _Placebo "Running up that Hill"_

* * *

"SAMMMMM!"

Relief washed through him in waves. Sam was running to him, holding his arm, but he seemed to be all right. He was smiling, want and happiness that Dean had come to him, that Dean had found him at last.

It happened in a blink, in a flash. White hot searing pain through his spine, then nothing.

Time slowed down for Dean.

He watched as the knife sliced through the back of his brother, as Sam hit his knees.

Even before Dean got to Sam, he knew. He felt that sweet golden light that had once wrapped around him, dissipate as quickly as it had come back to him.

The life left Sam's beautiful hazel eyes as Dean held him, telling him that it was okay, tears streaming down his face.

"Stay with me Sammy, Stay with me. Noo. No Sam, my Sammy."

Each broken word held a pain threshold that they didn't know existed, that had never been there before. When he realized that nothing he said was going to bring his baby brother back, he felt his heart shatter and then grow cold.

"SAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

Further into town, Bobby heard the broken cry and knew…

* * *

The supernatural can give life and can take it away…

With just a simple twist of a knife.


	10. Bringing forth Life End of Part 1

_**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to my fans in the US, and for everyone elsewhere, Blessed Be. I apologize deeply and truly for the lack in updating on both stories. These past months since mama passed away have been extremely hard. I am starting to reroutine again, so it shall become more and more frequent that I update. This is my final chapter for Part One of Heart and Soul and it took me almost a week to write it. I hope you all enjoy it, and I will update soon. You're reviews and favorites keep me going. Please, don't stop them. Enjoy :) Love Always, Nicole :)**_

* * *

_**"**__I saw a picture of you,_

_In an empty hallway,_

_I saw a voice and I knew _

_I couldn't walk away." Adam Lambert-Sleepwalker_

* * *

He hadn't had the strength to give him a hunter's death.

He couldn't salt and burn the bones, to bring finality to Sam's death, to him dying in Dean's arms.

Uncle Bobby could see the giant gaping hole in Dean. It wasn't your average grief stricken sibling, this was deeper; reaching into the soul of him, ripping out the core of everything he was, turning him into something blacker, sinister.

Bobby knew that Dean wouldn't hunt ever again, if Sam wasn't beside him.

He also knew that without hunting, Dean would end his life, join his brother in whatever was on the other side. Be it Hell or some other cursed place.

Dean knew that what bobby was trying to help him do was true. He should by all rights burn his brother, like he had his father only a year before.

He had all but shoved Bobby away, murder in his eyes when Bobby pushed for the cremation one more time.

Bobby hadn't returned since, allowing Dean his space, and time.

* * *

Now he sat there in a tiny room, willing Sam's heart to beat, to bring him to life, bring his own heart back into oneness with his brother.

He finally snapped.

It didn't take long before he was crying, screaming at the top of his lungs, begging for forgiveness, for failing at being a big brother and protector; for not being able to show him how much he loved Sam.

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?"

The shout echoed back to him, a silence in an empty room, before Dean got an idea…

The Supernatural will find a way to twist everything to its will, including the souls that belonged to two brothers.

* * *

_"If I only could,_

_Make a Deal with God_

_And Get Him to Swap Our Places.." Placebo-Running Up That Hill_

* * *

He woke up with his back aching; body stiff, in a cold room that was unfamiliar, even darker then the waking up on a bridge.

The last thing he remembered was running to Dean, and feeling the power of Dean's sweet silver light wrapping around him.

Then it went black.

He noticed the hole in his shirt, noticed the jagged marks of a knife.

His own hand touched where a wound would be should have been yet wasn't.

That was when his ears picked up the sound of a door opening, of someone coming to him.

He turned on guard, just to see the grief stricken emerald hues of his brothers dancing below him.

For a moment, neither one said anything, just gazing into the other.

Then it shifted.

A hand encircled in silver light sent warmth to his shoulder as he was grabbed and pulled into the fiercest hug he had ever felt from Dean.

It didn't take long for Dean's lips to press against Sam's jaw, to slowly scrape it with teeth, enough to send a small groan out of the newly alive mouth.

Everything to Sam was hot sensation, warm silver heat the entered him even more deeply before, encircled him in ways he hadn't been able to feel. His senses were alive, and more keen then they ever were before.

Whatever had happened, in this moment, he was grateful for it.

Because he could feel his brothers heartbeat in his, the blood running through his own veins entwined with Deans, knew every inch of his body in a way he never thought he could.

The moment was broken when Dean pulled back, eager and ready, only to see the questions in Sam's eyes.

Fuck…

* * *

Had it not been for the fact that they had an army of demons coming after them, he might have actually been able to love Sam right.

As Always, the Supernatural gets in the way.

Not only that but Dear Uncle Bobby had discovered his dirty secret.

A deal for a Deal.

A life for a Life.

His soul for Sam.

One year of his life was all he had left.

Even as Bobby wanted to kill him, he knew he had made the right choice.

He could have Sam, his heartbeat for one year.

Sam himself was suspicious, something had happened, something that his soul wasn't telling him.

He could feel it off Dean, feel the secret just hidden beneath the surface, but was content to let it rest. After all, he had yet to tell Dean his own dark secret.

And just like every dark secret, it always comes out in the end.

* * *

For this one to be revealed, all it took was a Wyoming cemetery, an open mouth and a killing sneer.

It hadn't taken long for Sammy to aim the gun at Josh, to calculate the time to pull the trigger.

When it was revealed that Josh severed Sam's Spinal cord, hazel angered eyes glanced at his brother, who stood stalk still; trying his best not to react, not say anything as Sam taunted him.

But Josh made the mistake of trying to overtake Sam again.

One shot.

Two shots.

Three shots.

Four shots.

Dean watched in morbid and loving fascination as Sam emptied the clip into Josh. No mercy, no remorse. A subtle and terrifying difference between the boy who shot a werewolf, and the man who now emptied a clip into someone who deserved it.

Simple steps to stand next to his brother, just to feel even stronger now, the heartbeat that echoed inside him, the smell of blood on his flesh, and the killer look that was both a turn on and frightening in one breath.

Had it not been for all Hell literally breaking loose, He would have kissed Sam right there..

The Supernatural can often takes us by surprise.

* * *

In this case, a Hell's gate opened, an army of demons escaped, the Yellowed man showed up, and Daddy did to.

Even as they leaned against the Impala, Dean couldn't help but hear the now dead yellow eyed man's words in echoing in his synapses.

"We know what you two mean to each other. That's why you brought little Sammy back. Question is Dean, do you know what you are to each other? Do you know what this means? How do even know if what you brought back, is really Sammy?"

He had blown the fucker straight back to hell, erasing the words in his mind, feeling the release of being pinned down, even as Sam helped him up, to face his Father.

Dad had come walking out of hell, as if on a casual stroll, as if hell wasn't a tortuous place that its name had given it.

And he once again, had given Dean the chance to kill the fucker who ruined their lives.

Dad had hugged him, had Smiled and nodded.

But then John reached forward and grabbed both their hands.

He entwined them into each other, watching as gold and silver light mixed and mingled; before finally blending into several colorful hues.

Dad stepped back, and disappeared.

They stayed like that the whole way back to the Impala, hand in hand.

Neither one seemed to mind that Bobby and Ellen were behind them, that they were lingering back at Uncle Bobby's suggestion. Nor did they notice that neither man nor woman were surprised at the hand holding. As if it were expected all along, as if this odd twisted attraction was normal in their world.

Sam finally broke the peaceful silence, finally voiced the thoughts Dean was dreading.

They had broken hands at the Impala each leaning on it in their own way, close but not touching.

"So I died. My spinal cord was severed." Sam started.

"Yea."

"Dean, why didn't you burn me?"

* * *

"_Dean, why didn't you burn me?"_

His eyes closed for just a second, just to take in the soft fierceness in the words, and the gentle probing into a mind in which he didn't want to admit.

Like claws of a cat retracting themselves from skin, Dean felt something release, and his entire body turned to face the taller man in front of him.

Sam was slapped back with the sheer force of emotion transcending in deep emerald color, releasing what was once hidden. Even through the well of emotion, Sam could all but feel the pain and the grief inside his brother.

"I couldn't refused- I just couldn't accept that you were gone, Sam. Your- you have been everything to me since you were placed in my arms at six months. You're the heart that beats inside me, that keeps me from going completely cold. I-didn't have the strength to live without you."

Dean looked down then, studying the ground. He could have made it all simple, but he had done that to much in the past and if losing Sam once hadn't taught him to be real, at least to his brother, then Dean would never be real at all.

It was the warmth of the muscular hand that cupped his face that had him looking up again. Hazel flecked color gazed back in him, wrought with emotion he could feel pulsing under his skin, and something more; different. Death had changed his little brother that was for sure.

"How long do you have?" The gruff voice asked, husky and possessive.

"A year."

It was the thumb tracing his lips, that had him pressing in closer, had his hands circling around Sam's waist.

"Dean, I'll get you out of it. You're my brother, and I love you. You have saved my ass, more than once. It's time I saved yours. Besides, sometimes I feel like-I'm a demon, and you. You keep me grounded into the fact that I'm still human."

Dean's lips crashed to Sam's before any other words could spill out of their mouths, before anything else could ruin this.

He had had enough talking, enough simpering emotions. It was time to feel, and feel in ways they never got to before.

He all but had Sam against the Impala, his hands running up under Sam's shirt, feeling the warm skin pulse into his own. He felt Sam groan into his mouth, when a finger traced a nipple, when another hand rested on the heartbeat that now belonged to them both.

It was the coughing that broke them apart, the coughing that had Dean turning to glare at a grinning Ellen and Bobby.

"We don't mean to interrupt you boys, but there was a whole hell of a lot of demons released tonight. Hundreds, you think?" Bobby said, nonchalantly grinning.

Sam answered quickly, although his hands hadn't left his brothers waist, still pressing him against him tightly.

"Not hundreds. It was an army. He released an army. I was supposed to lead it."

Ellen nodded her head. "Looks like we got some hunting to do."

"You boys better be ready." Bobby said, the thrill of hunting evident in his voice.

"Give us a night would you, Bobby? In the morning, we'll meet up with you both." Dean's response was aggressive, letting their two counterparts know he meant business.

Bobby nodded.

"Time is wasting, boys. Get going, Idgiots."

They let go of each other, just to get into the Impala and start it up.

Rev it and disappear into a night that both needed so desperately.

* * *

Bobby understood that some things had to be done properly.

With Sam and Dean, screwing in a graveyard parking lot was neither proper nor respectful.

So he would grant them this night.

Ellen smiled as the red brake lights were no longer visible and everything had become dark.

"Do they know yet, Bobby?"

Bobby shook his head. " see their colors, they are starting to get what they mean to each other; but not completely."

"Bobby? They're going to change the world aren't they?"

Bobby just wrapped his hands around Ellen, and pulled her to his vehicle.

"We'll see love. After tonight, things are going to be different."

* * *

The Supernatural often gives us surprises, and in many ways shows us miracles in darkest of times.

The right time, the right place…

**End of Part One. **


	11. Sparks Fly

**A/N: WARNING: SMUT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. This is one of my first sex chapters in this series. I know that many of you have been waiting for this. I have written differently, with respect to the fact that this is first a love story, not a sex story. Your review and favorites, private messages are appreciated. Copyright notice: I do not own Sam or Dean, but I do own this chapter. It is not an episode, it came from my own mind. Please enjoy :)**

* * *

**Interlude to Part Two: Sparks Fly **

_"The way you move is like a full on rainstorm  
And I'm a house of cards  
You're the kind of reckless  
That should send me runnin'  
But I kinda know that I won't get far.." Sparks Fly-Taylor Swift_

* * *

The sky opened up in rivulets of water, cascading down around the Impala as she was guided into a hotel parking lot.

Dean had passed several hotels, unwilling to put Sam in something grungy, because tonight was meant for something far more then just cheap.

He had let his instincts take over; allowed them to send him into wherever they needed to be.

They led him to a private hotel, away from the streets and traffic, away from humanity and the Supernatural itself.

He stood out in the rain, allowing a stream of water to soak his skin, tingling it gently, as their energy was spent falling from the blackness above.

Golden hazel took in his brother through the window, watching as each movement he made was so dangerously, recklessly beautifully Dean. Silver light emanated from around him, encircling his hand movements, his smile, even his voice.

He watched as the young woman behind the counter asked the never ending question with them.

Two queens or one king?

For the first time in their long lives of hotel hopping, Dean Winchester ordered one King.

For the first time since he had come back to life, Sam felt his heart stop, then restart as if it had been struck by the lightning that flashed quietly through the clouds.

A split second, a handshake, and he was counting the steps to when his brother would be coming face to face with him.

Sam didn't miss that Dean's eyes were more of a silver color in the rain soaked light, nor did he miss the soft smirk that played on his lips as he stopped four feet from Sammy.

* * *

_"And you stood there in front of me  
Just close enough to touch  
Close enough to hope you couldn't see  
What I was thinking of.."_

* * *

He was all too aware of Sam's reaction to him; of the way those captivating eyes looked at him with want, a desperate need to bury himself in his big brother, in his skin, his essence, his entire being.

Sam was soaked from the rain, every inch of him covered in water; droplets falling off bangs that now fell into those eyes that seared into his core, leaving him shaking.

Dean didn't have to be a mind reader to see the thoughts circling in Sam's head, feel it flowing in him, even as their gazes intensified.

Dean let a half smirk come to his face, encouraged it to cause half curiosity in his little brother.

Tonight, he would give Sam what he wanted, and he would take what he wanted.

He didn't allow the four feet that separated them to last long.

Within seconds, he was in Sam's face; hands placed on either side of him, his breath quickening as he just gazed into gold, grounded by the scent of Earth that was all Sam; what truly kept his heartbeat alive.

* * *

_"Drop everything now  
Meet me in the pouring rain  
Kiss me on the sidewalk  
Take away the pain  
'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile…"_

* * *

Sensations of hot and cold shivered through both of them as Dean's mouth crashed straight into Sam's.

Cold hands slid up his shirt, to wrap around his lower spine and jerk him off the Impala.

Sam was wrapped into Deans arms in seconds, as his encircled around the neck of his big brother.

Rain poured around them, as they fought for control, using tongue and teeth.

A groan escaped Dean's mouth as Sam bit into his lower lip, rough enough to draw a little blood, light enough to still be semi submissive.

Dean's senses were in overdrive, between the soaking cold of the rain and the warmth of Sam, he couldn't bear much more.

He needed Sam's skin, to imprint himself on every inch of exposed flesh that existed, feel the thudding heartbeat under his hands as it matched time with his own.

"Inside. Now." He growled.

Sam didn't hesitate to let go, to follow Dean across the threshold, into someplace new yet so familiar.

* * *

_"Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down  
Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around  
'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile.."_

* * *

He had no qualms about flipping on the light switch, turning around and pinning his brother against the door they just walked through.

He felt Sam's hand reach to turn off the light, to encase them in darkness; and Dean slapped his hand down, holding it in his own, not allowing any sort of movement.

"No." He whispered roughly. "I want to see you Sam. I want you to see me."

Sam swallowed as Dean's mouth started on his forehead, moving down to his cheeks then his jaw line.

Their tempo slowed, as Chronos did himself, the world freezing inside the hotel room.

He could hear the rain patter on the windows as his brother's lips pressed into his neck, nipping and caressing with silver heat.

Somehow, and neither were sure how; they moved together in sliding off rain soaked jackets, only to be brought closer to skin, closer to where both needed to be.

Dean's hand hadn't released its pin on Sam's; but the other had no problem running his hand up underneath his white shirt, splaying on the toned abdomen in a way that made Sam's knees weak.

As if understanding his little brother would buckle, he pulled him off the door; tugging him onto the bed; sliding over him.

Emerald Silver glittered down at him, more emotion spoken with no words, igniting the night with a passionate fire, surrounding Sam in its heat.

Sam's one hand reached up, grabbing the back of Dean's shirt and pulling it over his head, eyes taken in every ounce of his brother's skin.

Lips met lips, Sam leaning up to meet Dean in stride, finding the collar bone in which gentle scrapings sent his brother shivering.

Dean pressed down, pushing Sam into the mattress, their bodies stretching into the other, as if each were made to be one with the next.

Sam felt Dean's other hand let go of his wrist, opening his eyes to watch Deans fingers caress his chest, tracing every inch of muscle he had, running down to the hem of the jeans blocking so much of him.

He felt himself gasp as Dean snapped open the button, as he undid the zipper and slid Sam's pants down…

* * *

_" My mind forgets to remind me  
You're a bad idea  
You touch me once and it's really something,  
You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be.."_

* * *

They weren't quite sure how they got naked so quickly, or how it was that they knew exactly where to touch the other.

Neither one cared.

Years upon years of cravings, years upon years of resistance, escaped out of them in swift touches and burning kisses.

Dean's lips were pressed onto one of Sam's nipples, causing Sam to rake fingers deep into the back of Dean, causing an abrupt guttural groan.

He wanted this slowly. He needed this to be slow, to savor his Sammy with everything had, to memorize him, to make him one within him, soul to soul.

He could feel the friction between them as he rubbed them together, gently enough to illicit gentle moans from Sam, but not enough to bring them further in.

Note yet..

"Dean, Let me-" Sam gasped out.

Dean stopped, eyes meeting lust bent hazel. He knew right away what Sam was asking, and he felt a second's hesitation.

That hesitation had Sam reaching up and flipping them over.

Dean found himself underneath his taller brother, golden light wrapping around him in soft tendrils, the scent of earth clouding his senses.

As Sam's hungry mouth claimed his, so did the heated muscular hand.

Dean gasped and cried out when the hand of baby brother wrapped around the core of his physical being.

"Sammy-"

"Let me Dean, just let me-"

Dean felt himself freeze as Sam's mouth worked its way down.

* * *

_"I'm on my guard for the rest of the world  
But with you I know it's no good  
And I could wait patiently but I really wish you would..."_

* * *

All walls came crashing down the minute his mouth closed around Dean.

Colors flashed behind his eye lids, warm hues of gold and silver melting together as if they were meant to become one, as the brothers were.

Hands wove into the long hair that belonged to Sam, jerking him further down onto his shaft; pleasure lancing through him as Sam brought him further in.

Sam's entire soul was alight. Even here, the smell of whiskey and mint hit his nose, flaring to life everything that brought forth Dean, everything that Sam saw in him.

Protection.

Love.

Aggression.

Everything that Dean was, echoed out through hands in his hair, the gasps he made; the liquid pleasure in the pools of silver laced emerald.

It didn't take long for Dean to tighten up, to nearly cum with pleasure from that hot wet mouth around him.

He wanted more, and they both knew it.

Sam stopped, pulling off slow before kissing his muscular inner thighs, the v shape that led him down to Deans core, the essence of every mans life.

Dean felt like his entire body was a wire, ready to snap into a thousand pieces of bliss, all it took was one more second of Sam's touch.

Lips traced up the stomach, tongue teasing the nipple when he got to his chest, feeling those calloused hands pour over broad shoulders.

Possessive hazel sparked mischief as Sam aimed for Dean's mouth, teasingly before pulling away and to Dean's ear.

"Take me."

* * *

_"Drop everything now  
Meet me in the pouring rain  
Kiss me on the sidewalk  
Take away the pain  
'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile  
Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down  
Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around  
'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile.."_

* * *

Words often cannot describe the amount of emotion that is expressed in body language, in sex, in a comforting touch.

Dean took Sam.

Softly and slowly, as if he were fragile; Dean entered Sam's warmth like a careful child.

It hurt at first, caused his baby brother to wince a bit, but not enough to stop them.

He waited, ever so gently waited for Sam to nod, or give any indication that it was okay to precede.

Two arms wrapped around his neck, pulled him down gently; before a whispered word shaped the lit room into something far more passionate.

"Dean-"

Each move was tentative, slow. Painstakingly and beautifully slow. Isn't that how it was supposed to be?

Gold and silver danced around them as he picked a steady rhythm, enjoying the tightness of Sam's rear clinch around him,as he rocked forward. Sam caught him in middle, meeting him on the same ground syncing with him.

As they melded closer, as they pushed the threshold with gasps and groans…silver and gold brightened, shimmered, began to spark.

Sam had his eyes closed, sensations rocking through him as Dean took him to new heights.

He could hear his brothers heartbeat inside his head, feel it underneath his hand that was now gripped tightly on his chest, gasped almost in sync with him.

"Sammy, God Sammy. Open your eyes, look at me, please."

The southern drawl swam of need, a need to release ready to snap like a whip in the night.

Sam opened his eyes, nodded his head and reached up.

Dean came down on his mouth, a passionate kiss as he came inside his brother, with rapid quick convulsions.

Sam came with him, arching up as Deans hands tethered him to the bed, reminding him this was no dream.

Gold and Silver burst in array of tiny explosions, braiding together; becoming one.

Each new braided ribbon slowly fell into them, inundated their bodies in a protective light they did not notice, to wrapped up in each other to even feel the power between them.

* * *

_"I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild.  
Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right.  
And lead me up the staircase  
Won't you whisper soft and slow?  
I'm captivated by you, baby, like a firework show…"_

* * *

Some would consider it odd that after an exhausting first time making love, they still would have the strength to touch each other.

They did.

Dean's hands were slowly caressing Sam's back, pads of the fingers tracing the scar where his knife wound should have been.

They faced each other, golden warm hazel meeting silver laden emerald.

Most lovers chat, talk or sleep.

They needed none of that.

With senses heightened and awareness deeper, they simply just had to look.

Each thought passed into the other, each breath taken at the same time.

Blueprinted in their brains were the places to touch, where to get turned on, where to comfort, where to heal.

They were one.

One in the Same.

Sam's was discovering everything on Dean's face, memorizing every laugh line, every scar, every small detail with touch and sight.

He made sure it was branded into his mind, that his nerves, his sight his being never forgot how beautiful Dean looked in the soft hotel light.

He kissed Dean, softly now, warmer.

Big brother answered by pulling him closer, wrapping the Egyptian cotton blankets around them.

They lay there naked, covered in cum and sweat; and neither one gave a fuck.

"Sam..Sammy- I love you, so much." Dean's soft breath of whiskey and mint hit Sam's face.

"I Love you…I love you Dean. I-"

Sam was unable to finish as he found himself once again surrounded by silver, enraptured by whiskey, addicted to mint…and loved so purely that it was unbelievable.

All he could do was give back…as beautifully as he knew how.

With heart, with Earth, with power…

* * *

_"Drop everything now,  
Meet me in the pouring rain,  
Kiss me on the sidewalk,  
Take away the pain  
'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile.  
Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down  
Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around  
'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile_

And the sparks fly..

_Oh, baby, smile...  
And the sparks fly..."_

* * *

The Supernatural allowed them one night, to become whole.

Yet from within Shadows comes many deceptions…many plots.

Morning brings War..brings darkness.


	12. Of War and Patience

**_A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews, private messages and favorites, as they mean alot to me. Season 3 has been incredibly hard to write, incredibly hard also because of Ruby. Although I changed some things cause I think she is brillant. Please enjoy, review and discover. Love, Nicole :)_**

* * *

**_"A warning to the people, the good and the evil  
This is war  
To the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim  
This is war_**

It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie  
The moment to live and the moment to die  
The moment to fight, the moment to fight.." –This is War-30 seconds to Mars

* * *

Pride.

Envy.

Gluttony.

Lust.

Wrath.

Greed.

Sloth.

The basics of every human instinct, in the form of seven deadly sins.

Now, they were seven deadly demons.

Seven released by four.

War had begun…

A war set to tear the brothers apart…

* * *

Bobby noticed the difference in the two brothers when he saw them.

Dean; canopied in silver, tinged with gold; was happier, more eager to fight.

Sam, enshrouded with Gold in traces of silver felt stronger, yet was morose.

One had a year to live.

One didn't know how to deal with the other not being there.

Such are the effects of becoming one, and the effects of a deal one couldn't break so easily.

Bobby watched, as Sam gave and gave; determination to make his brothers last year the best he ever had.

He watched as Dean ran around cocky, willing to take six of the seven deadly sins as they lay trapped in a house, with a grieving widow whose husband had managed to down a whole bottle of Drano, because of said Demons.

Uncle Bobby just rolled his eyes, hoping that they would work it out on their own, lest they both end up in hell.

"You boys best get ready, we don't have long now."

* * *

Sharp green eyes smirked from her hiding place, as she tailed the youngest Winchester in his travels.

She was the one sent to mess up Sam.

The supernatural allows for interference, for plots and twists and turns.

It is patient, and evil; light and cunning.

She was patient, she would bide her time.

They had become one, had become part of the other.

It would be their downfall.

When Dean finally ended up in Hell…which he would…

Sam Winchester was as good as hers.

* * *

Candles cast an eerie glow over the room they prepared in.

Dean sat, leaning up against an old cabinet, loading his gun.

Varicolored emerald eyes watched his brother fill bottles of Holy Water.

Images flashed through his mind; powerful enough to be real, to exist in the small room with them.

All of the sudden, he needed to feel Sam in his arms.

Sam felt, more then saw anything with Dean.

They had gotten good at that.

Toyed with finding each other, reaching for another, hearing the others thoughts before the words were out loud.

His own eyes looked up, just in time to see the desperation on his older brother's face.

Sometimes, one look, one pause can cause the whole world to shift, to stop.

Nothing needed to be said, to be spoken aloud, for everything that needed to be voiced circulated the room in invisible words, in energy warped with feeling.

Sam could feel the adrenaline in his brother, the need to kill, the bitterness of going to Hell.

Buried beneath all the dark emotions, Sam could also feel the aching love that burned within him.

Sam felt like he'd been branded, the very core of Dean was inside him, living within him.

He tried to block out the pain of knowing that in a year, that core would be gone.

Their moment shattered when the lights flickered, and their battle began.

* * *

Always the right moves.

Always the right place.

She made her move.

Protect the Boy King.

Big Brother Dean was occupied at the moment.

What better way to earn the brother lovers trust then to help his Sammy?

After all, the poor tall man was surrounded by three Demons.

And getting his ass beat.

He was a skilled hunter by all means, but these seven, there weren't low levels.

They were high enough that no hunter could outmatch them.

So she killed all three of them, and delighted in the pleasure of the shock on his face.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm the girl that just saved your ass."

"Well I saved yours to."

She smiled, seductive and pretty.

"See ya around Sam."

She disappeared then.

The right moves, the right place.

Destroy their oneness…in time.

* * *

They had won this battle.

But the war had just begun.

A war that raged with dark forces, a war that raged within themselves, with each other.

Dean was tired of war, tired of the hunt.

Hell he thought was his ticket out.

He hadn't considered how much it devastated Sam, and now here they were, once again fighting over his deal, his rash stupid decisions.

Only this time Sam was trying to override his deal.

"We trap this demon in anyway, trick her, try and out play the deal. You Die. Sam you try, and I will stop you." Dean snapped.

He turned to walk away, when Sam reached out and grabbed his arm.

Heat ignited in him, like medicine being poured through an IV, he felt it course through his veins, reminding him that somewhere he still had a hearbeat, and Sam was tethered to it.

"How could you make that deal?" Sam asked.

A hand to the face, soothing comforting; trying to ease the sharp edges of glass shattered pain that threatened to cut his brother in a million ribbons.

"Because I couldn't live with you dead." He said, possessively, selfishly.

Sam swallowed. Every time Dean touched him, he puddled. Whiskey and Mint came to his mind unbidden with the images of him taking Dean, right here in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. He resisted, painfully so.

"Did you even think about what this would to me? I remember what it did to you when Dad did it. It left you twisted and broken. What the hell am I going to do without you?"

The response he got was a sharp kiss on the mouth, searing; bruising.

Hidden fires of passion raged underneath the motion, pulling Sam in, burning him with everything it had.

He jerked Dean against him, snapped him forward until he was right up against him, right where he belonged.

"You are so selfish." He gritted out.

"After all that I've done for this family, I'm entitled." Dean ground out back, before spinning Sam around him, pinning him on the hood of the Impala.

He grabbed Sam through his Jeans, smiled as he felt the pleasure of friction send his brother into shivers.

"You-Are-Unbelievable." Sam gasped out.

Dean pressed down upon him, kissing his neck as he did so.

"Hell yea. Let's go, little brother. There's some mother fuckers to take out. But before we take them, I plan on taking you."

He let Sam up, going over to the driver side and smiling as Sam got into the car.

If he was going to hell, then he would make sure that Sam was pleased, that Sam had all he needed to survive, that his love burned further and deeper into Sam, and that hellfire or not; Sam would always know he belonged to Dean.

* * *

_"I'm scared and I'm alone_

_I'm ashamed_

_And I need for you to know_

_I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say_

_And you can't take back what you've taken away_

_'Cause I feel you, I feel you near me" Damaged-Plumb_

* * *

Having women crawl all over them would make their bond suffer.

She knew that, but it was a risk she had to take.

She also knew that sending Lisa to Dean would give her time with Sam.

It was easy to create a job near Lisa.

One that would take her kid, pull Dean straight into Lisa's yoga arms.

The right move, just to have her soft moments with Sam, to etch into his skin, his mind.

Keep him there, allow her to create the questions she needed to...

* * *

Sam sat alone in a café, just doing research.

Dean had left him yet again, for Lisa.

Between him and Uncle Bobby trying to find a way to free Dean, and the feelings of guilt raging through him over everything they had released, he could feel his head wanting to explode.

On top of that, he missed Dean.

Dean always made it a point to show Sam he cared, with a touch, with sex, with just holding him.

Then Lisa walked in the door.

Now, Sam was alone.

He supposed he should get used to it.

After this year, he would be alone the rest of his life.

It was when she sat down across from him, all blonde hair and green eyes, did he startle.

She told him more than he ever wanted to know.

She peaked his curiosity, got him digging.

Kept him away from Dean, at least for this point in time.

Then she was gone, as quick as she came, giving him a chance to think.

Thinking was dangerous, but it was the right move.

Thinking would cause him to wonder, to come to her.

Good old Sam.

* * *

Changelings.

Of everything in the world, it had to be the changelings.

They got the kids out, got the woman out.

And Dean ran off to be with Lisa once again.

Leaving Sam to research that every one of his mother's friends were systematically killed, and that Yellow Eyes had something to do with it.

So he made the mistake of calling her, of placing himself right into her grasp.

She smirked when he wigged out about her being a demon.

Somehow in her own way, she had found a chink into Sam.

And She would use it.

Use it to shred and unbraid every piece of gold and silver entwined together that she could find.

But first she had to earn the trust of them both, and win Dean's approval.

At least until the Mother Fucker rotted in hell.

She smiled at him, as he held holy water.

"My names Ruby. I can help you save your brother."

* * *

The supernatural allows distractions, allows tests

Breaking bonds is easy for the supernatural.

The patient cunning Evil is the worst kind.


	13. The Coldness of Power

**A/N: I want to thank you for all your reviews and favorites as always they mean the most to me. WARNING: SMUT. If you do not like sex with the brothers, please skip this Chapter. Ahaha, a little bit more of the power the boys have. Read, Review and Enjoy, I love you guys. Nicole :)**

* * *

_"It doesn't mean anything  
Without you here with me  
And I can try to justify  
But I still need you here with me" Here with Me-Plumb_

* * *

The raw power that left his hand was more than just the bullet from the once famous Colt.

He sizzled with sparks of gold enveloped in silver, like an unnatural lightning storm.

When metal slapped into the demon priests chest, his entire body convulsed in shocks, but it was the golden lightning around him that let everyone in the room know it was more, much more.

"SAM-"

A second shot exploded out of the barrel, this time her bullet encased in gold.

It didn't take more than two seconds and the demoness was dead.

Dean had felt every ounce of Sam's energy course through him when he came down those stairs, ready to save his brother's life.

This mysterious, endothermic force within them; that melded them, had just shown him how very capable it was of doing whatever it chose, whenever it was needed.

He lay there, on the cold stone floor, watching Sam, who had yet to lower the gun; yet to relinquish his hold.

Hazel spattered gold swiveled to the long lean mass of his big brother slightly injured, looking at him with shock swirling around him.

The possessiveness that circled around Sam; the air of cold in his eyes, the calculations in his brain, everything that embodied Sam at the moment, was different; wasn't the brother that Dean had become accustomed to.

Dean trembled.

He couldn't decide wither it was from fear, respect, or longing; all he knew was that he was trembling.

He noticed the silver circling around his hands, a warm emanating light; that was reaching; trying to pull for something.

Sam was kneeling beside him in a flash; eyes still dominating, protective, pained. Controlled big hands reached out and grasped Dean's face, cupping it, forcing him to look up and into the eyes he was hesitant to look into.

The silver reacted, blending with gold enflamed around the taller man, entwining and braiding together.

Searing heat greeted Dean's mouth, demanding control, willing to take the very core of Dean with or without his consent.

He reacted, arms encircling around that muscular neck, leaning into his fierceness, answering it with his own.

Dean's head fell back to the floor, gently this time, not to a hard smack of a mother fucker who wanted him dead.

His jacket was slipped off his shoulders, becoming the very cushion that would stop his skin from being scrapped up.

Sam's hands were like hot brands, everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Underneath his shirt, running up a jeaned thigh; scraping his neck softly.

He found he was having a hard time keeping up. Then Sam pulled of his shirt.

Dean shuddered, cold air gripping his skin as Sam laid heat to it, as his mouth leaned up to the ear.

"Dean. Let me take you."

Dean felt himself shivering at the words, even as hands undid his buckle.

It didn't matter that they were in a basement, with two dead bodies oozing blood, all that mattered in this second was having his brother inside him, over him, encompassing him.

Sam's hands scrapped Dean, causing a groan, guttural and animal in its effect.

Then he was gasping as two wet fingers slid into the warmth of his ass, causing him to cry out, arch up.

He watched Sam smile as he clutched at the shirt that was still resting on his brother, as he tugged and pried to pull it off.

It was all hard muscle; taught and ready to strike at any moment, a wire ready to snap and explode. Dean clasped his mouth onto a nipple, fingers playing with the belt that still restricted Sam.

"Dean…"

The way his name was said, sparked something; ignited in his system and coursed through him. He tried rolling them over, tried to take control.

A finger pushing in the right place stopped him mid movement.

Then he heard the zipper come undone, felt Sam's hardness against his thigh.

"No no. Not tonight big brother. It's my turn now."

It didn't take long for Sam to push himself inside Dean, to feel his brother tighten and strain underneath him, he pushed as everything warm and wet cascaded around his cock, the embodiment of Dean.

It didn't take long before they were in a rougher rhythm; the hardness of the floor a constant reminder of where they were.

Dean felt once more heat on his mouth, once more heard his name gasped out on his tongue as silver and gold mixed above him.

Hazel gold on emerald silver, and both boys came, bodies shuddering in unison….

* * *

She had done what she had needed to.

Ruby had come to Bobby of her own free will, of her own risk.

She needed Sam to completely and totally trust her.

Best way to gain that trust?

Repair the colt.

Gain the trust of Uncle Bobby.

And once again save Sam's ass.

* * *

He had lain awake for two nights, Sam next to him, breathing with him.

Emerald eyes watched Sam, caressed his body with careful detail, searching for anything, anything to explain the sudden coldness in his brother.

He was the heart of Dean, he couldn't be cold…he wasn't allowed to be, he was the conscious of Dean, the one thing that kept him moral and pure.

The words of the Demon woman came to him.

Sam, the leader of the Army.

Sam, who now had a target on his back, from both human and Demons alike.

Sam, whom the female had admitted she was all for following.

His baby brother, who was now more man than kid.

For a moment, Dean struggled with himself, and then he just wrapped himself around Sam, kept him closer to him, a form of keeping watch, of guarding the heart that was his.

Nothing would take the heart of Sam, not while he was alive.

* * *

They had nearly taken Dean away from him.

He was getting sick of these mother fucking demons.

And he was getting sick of them trying to take his brother early.

He still needed him, still wanted him there, still was the only thing keeping him sane.

Ruby knew it when she opened the door, when she congratulated Baby Winchester on his kills.

Then he turned on her, pointed the colt to her chest, threatened to kill her.

It made sense, he was angry and hurting, want anything with black eyes to die.

Like a good demon should, she challenged him, told him that she was the only one that could help him and would help him.

He put the gun down.

"You know Sam, you're going to have to get used to doing things differently if you want this." She said, cockily.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Don't worry Sam. I'll be right there beside you, guiding you. The good Fallen Angel."

Sam didn't know how to tell her he wanted Dean, not her.

He didn't have to, she already knew.

Everything in its time….

* * *

_"And never in this saddest moment  
I feel we're letting go  
And if you take me, please don't leave me  
I'll never let you go…" The Last Time-Amber Pacific._

* * *

"Is that what you want, Dean? Me to let go of you?" Sam asked, quietly.

Dean said nothing, just walking away and leaving Sam to himself in the middle of a hospital hallway.

"What about me Dean? Can I not need you as much as you need me?" Sam said out loud, to the open air that now held the words he had so desperately wanted to say, but Dean just refused to hear.

He hated the jobs they worked anymore.

If it wasn't a demon trying to take them both, it was a spirit trying to teach them to let go.

This time it was fairytales.

Snow white, bringing the Grimm brothers to life.

All it had done was push Dean further away from him, push him closer to hell fire.

Sam was clinging with everything he had, trying his best to hold on of whatever shred of Dean his big brother was willing to give.

He didn't know if he could handle this life without Dean.

Didn't know if he wanted to…

And Dean…

Dean was blind to everything that Sam needed.

Or so it seemed.

* * *

It was easy to sneak out and leave his sleeping brother, easy to go find the bitch that he made the deal with.

He couldn't bear the thought of losing Dean, any more than Dean could bear to lose him.

So he went and saw her, went to make his own deal, to get his own brother out, even if it meant he died again. Although he would preferif they both lived.

Was he in for a shock when she laughed in the colts face.

"That's not the original colt. Oh-Ruby. Of course.. She'll get what's coming to her."

"Shut-up." Sam retorted, wanting nothing more than to pull the trigger. He was here however to negotiate, not kill. Yet.

Her laugh was like tinkling magic as she explained to Sam, why he should be relieved that Dean was going to hell.

All he would ever be was the snot nosed brother to Dean, and wasn't Sam just tired of all the messes that Dean made?

In truth, he was a little tired of the self-loathing woe is me crap, but Dean was still his brother, still everything he needed.

"If I shoot you, the contracts void." He gritted out.

"Not this time sugar. The contracts in his hands. Even if you shoot me, Dean will still go to hell. He wants his soul, and he has it. He's not going to let it go, even for you." She smiled sadly, as if offering Sam some sort of comfort.

He shot her anyway.

Golden trails followed the bullet as it hit her, frying her instantly.

Sam stood there, in the silent crossroads, as the body of the woman rested at his feet.

In that moment, he didn't care.

Coldness gripped him, a cold darkness that radiated a soft power coming from inside him.

He was losing everything.

His brother.

His Soul.

His Dean..

* * *

In the motel room, Dean jolted as power coursed through him.

In a nightmare he watched Sam pull the trigger on innocent girl and he cried out; sitting up then falling back onto the bed.

Dean fell back into a deep sleep, conscious mind unaware of what his spirit felt…


	14. Eyes Wide Open

**A/N: I want to thank all of you for the reviews, for your patience and love. The last two episodes I saw of Season 3 struck me really hard espeacally Fresh Blood. I wanted to convey the beauty and agony I saw in those two men, and I hope I did it well. I am also working on a novel so I am a bit distracted, but I hope you enjoy this. As we get further in, my own plot will come out, as it's already started to with Sam's power. Read, review and Enjoy :) Love Nicole**

* * *

_"All this feels strange and untrue _

_And I won't waste a minute without you _

_My bones ache, my skin feels cold _

_And I'm getting so tired and so old_

_ The anger swells in my guts_

_And I won't feel these slices and cuts_

_I want so much to open your eyes'_

_Cos I need you to look into mine_

_Tell me that you'll open your eyes.." Open Your Eyes-Snow Patrol_

* * *

He awoke to strong arms sliding around him, grasping onto him as if he were the very air Sam breathed, and without him close he would surely suffocate.

Dean lay still, listening to the soft murmuring words, and feeling the tears fall onto scratchy worn sheets.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry…I Love you so much, Dean."

The feeling of warm lips pressing into the base of his neck let him know that something, truly something upset Sam.

He didn't move, didn't speak, allowing the intoxicating energy of Sam to flow around him. This time, though, it wasn't the cool sliding of gold that gave him breath, made him calm.

Molten and hot, it slithered onto his own energy; agonizing; yet painfully strong, and raging like a lava flow below the Earth.

If a hunter doesn't listen to their instincts they will end up killed, if a hunter doesn't pay attention, the lives of the ones they love end in danger and death.

Something in Dean told him to check the colt, to check and make sure, that Sam was just having a breakdown, that nothing else had happend.

His instincts told him, something else did.

Leisurely, and with some pangs of guilt, Dean slid the strong hands cupped onto his belly away, and pushed himself up.

Even before he reached Sam's pack, even before he opened and checked the revolvers chamber, he knew.

There was a bullet missing, and the golden energy of Sam was all over the gun, cold and unyeilding, nearly burning him with its force.

"God Dammit, Sam."

* * *

They drove in a semi comfortable silence, Dean aware that Sam had become colder, darker, distant.

He glanced at Sammy, and sighed. He really didn't want this conversation, but it had to happen.

"So I've been waiting since Maple Springs. You got something you want to tell me?"

Sam inwardly cringed, trying his best to sound innocent. "It's not your birthday-"

"No."

"Happy, Perm? Dude, I don't know what you're talking about."

"There's a bullet missing from the colt. Want to tell me how that happened?"

Sam took a moment, before giving Dean a face, refusing to open his mouth, to give out what happend.

"I know it wasn't me so it would have to take someone-Dammit you went after it, didn't you? The crossroads Demon, after I told you not to." Dean snapped, wanting nothing more than to hit his brother at the moment for being stupid.

"Ok. Well."

"You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Well I didn't."

"And you shot her!"

"She was a smart ass."

"So, what does that mean I'm out of my deal?"

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact? No. Someone else holds the contract."

"Who?"

"She wouldn't say."

"Well, we should find out who. Of course our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh wait minute-"

Sam's anger pinged back into Dean's own, as he spit out. "That's not funny."

"No it's not. It was a stupid freaking risk and you shouldn't have done it."

Dean instantly regretted it, because the words Sam snapped out hit Dean like a punch in the face, colliding with conflicting emotions he was already having.

"Shouldn't have done it? Your my brother Dean, and I'm going to do everything I can to save you. And I sure as hell am not going to apologize for it, alright?"

It ended then, Dean quiet and Sam wishing for a way to get Dean to see that Sam needed him, so desperately, and that his attitude hurt.

* * *

Massacushuetss should have been a breath of fresh air, with salty ocean, blue skies and a ghost ship.

Instead, they ended up dealing with Bella Legosi, making both of them want to shoot her, or torture her painfully. She was as annoying as Jo, always in the way, prying into where she didn't belong.

Yet they had to admit she was semi helpful, giving them info here and there, keeping them on the case and giving them facts, that gave them advantage.

Dean was more attentive to Sam, to how he was colder, more apt to get the job done, and with barely meeting Dean's gaze, almost as if the world was nothing more then a sheet of ice to skate on.

He didn't like it. He hated the fact that he was pushing Sam away, that he was putting up walls that didn't need to be there. Sam had more grit then he thought and Dean wasn't blind to it; not as unseeing as Sam thought, but that didn't mean he wasn't afraid.

This incessant pull between them made it harder for him to stay away, to not spend more nights holding onto Sam, but resisted.

It was after the second victim that he really noticed the change in Sam, the fact that he wasn't opening up, and the fact that in a middle of a case he had pointed out exactly how much Dean had been screwed over, not he; as if they were no longer partners..

It was after Dean caught the symbolism of the Captain and his brother, did he try to open up to Sam in Baby where the was safety and warmth.

He met with something much different the a nice conversation.

"Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking, and I want you to know that I understand why you did it. The crossroads demon."

He heard Sam sigh, but pushed forward. "If the situation had been reversed, I guess I'd have done the Same thing."

Dean cringed when he felt Sam's anger, bellying into the core of his gut and resting there like a cold wind of a storm, but he pressed on anyway.

"I'm not blind. I see what you're going through with this whole deal, me going away and all that. But you're going to be okay."

"You think so?" Sam gritted out, clenching his fists to keep from choking the life out of his brother.

"Yea. You keep Hunting, live your life; your stronger than me. You are, You'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I'm sorry for putting you through all this, I really am."

It was an eruption of escrustation, a cut to the quick that entered Sam's system like several shocks of lightning. Still, even after this, Dean still was blind…still couldn't see, and it broke Sam's heart into a million pieces. Gold trammeled around him, and when he spoke, Dean couldn't fight the chills.

"You know what, you can go fuck yourself. I don't want an apology from you. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a big boy now and I can handle myself."

"Well excuse me-"

"So would you please quit worrying about me? That's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, I want you to worry about you. I want you to give a crap about you dying."

As with anything, walls always come up when agony shows itself, when defenses become the highest as vulnerable points are hit. Sam saw the walls come up, watched the slow smirk creep across his brothers face.

"So that's it then? Nothing more to say from you?" He questioned, hoping that somehow Dean would wake up.

"I think maybe I'll play craps."

Dean tried his best to shut out his own pain, but he could feel Sam's pain, beginning to invade him, beginning to pull and twist.

When his brother turned away, looked out the window; tried to swallow the tears; Dean knew that he had missed something, laying deeper within Sam.

Maybe, just maybe it was something he didn't want to see.

* * *

_"Get up, get out, get away from these liars  
'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire  
Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine  
And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time_

Every minute from this minute now  
We can do what we like anywhere  
I want so much to open your eyes  
'Cause I need you to look into mine

Tell me that you'll open your eyes…"

_Open your Eyes-Snow Patrol._

* * *

The name of the Winchester family was already famous.

Unbidingly, and without knowing it; Sammy Winchester had become the talk of the Hunters.

Some wanted his head.

Some believed him to be good.

Others were fully aware of his Demon's blood, of his place in Azazel's demon Army.

With all that swirling around him, enemies from allies were bound to happen.

It did, spreading like wildfire among those who saw the worlds end as long as Sam lived.

Bella Lagosi would be the one to betray them, the one to bring a price down on their head much higher than they bargained for.

It would also be what the best thing that ever happened to them in a long time.

* * *

He hated Vampires, and what's worse; he hated vampires that preyed on certain types of people. Like the blondes.

What he hated even more was that Bella had burnt them, given them out to Gordon and his friends.

Now he and Dean were running down an alleyway, bullets blazing past them, as they run from their own and from Vampires to.

He headed them off, became their target, as Sam escaped, to meet him back at the motel.

He was going to kill Bella, kill her for making them targets…

* * *

It was when they confronted the father of the vampire's did he realize something was wrong, very wrong.

Sam was even more danger, was in even more trouble than he wanted to believe.

Gordon had been turned, and it would be the end of Sam.

He wouldn't allow it to happen.

He was the big brother, he would always protect Sam.

* * *

He crushed the cell phones, shattering the signal.

Dean made a choice that once again would put him right up against Sam, and this time Sam wasn't letting go.

He grabbed the colt, explained to Sam that he was to stay here, hole up and he would go after Gordon alone.

Sam shot into his lecture about Dean having nothing to lose now, and how it wasn't funny to him.

"What rhymes with shut up, Sam?" Dean annoyed finally snapped out.

Energy burst between the two of them, bouncing around uncontrolled, crackling like a fire.

Sam slapped out and hit the pad, sending it flying.

Dean tried to cover, tried to say he wasn't terrified, that Sam was losing his mind, that he didn't know what he was talking about.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I know you! I've been following you around my whole life. I've been looking up to you since I was four Dean! Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yea, I know you, better than anyone else in the entire world. And this is exactly how you act when your terrified. I mean I can't blame you, it's just-"

He broke through, both of them could feel it. The tension changed from charged to softer, vulnerable, and Dean found himself unable to look at Sam, as the crackling between them wound down into a soft arcs that passed back in forth between them.

Then he heard Sam's voice crack, and he said softly, "What?"

For a moment, Sam didn't move, couldn't find the words to say what he needed to.

When words fail, actions don't.

Sam moved a couple of steps closer, eyes looking straight at Dean, into Dean.

Now he was the one trembling, a weakness that needed to be shown, to be told.

He forced himself to be still, forced himself to try not to become a big sobbing baby.

"It's just I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. Cause-Just Cause-"

Dean saw.

All of the sudden, it became clear.

The need was in Sam's eyes as desperate as if he needed water, or food.

A starving man who's thirst hadn't been quenched, who had been given nothing but scraps to eat.

Older brother got up, every ounce of his walls knocked down by Sam's fierce words; energy sliding around him, causing him to reach, arms outstretched.

Sam met him halfway, arms clasping around his neck, holding him like a python with its prey, unrelinqushing.

In dark times of life, we are given small moments, just ones that forever burn into the back of the memory.

Sam made sure to detail every moment of this, as he felt Dean's heartbeat place right up against his own, thrumming with the same energy as his.

A completeness fell over them, standing in a mattress laden room, with nothing between them but molten gold and crystal silver.

For a second, a beautiful blinding intricate second, they were one.

Sam could feel the terror, the fear, the shredding pain that ripped Dean apart that made him build walls and pull away from him, and he held on tighter, letting Dean know that he was there, even when Dean couldn't talk.

Golden hot light, iced over with gentle crystals is what met Dean, a raging storm trapped in ice, and a need so desperate it took his breath away. He had missed this, missed that his brother craved him still, that until Dean's heart stopped, Sam was going to need him.

He pulled back, looking into Sam's eyes, quiet and desepratly calm.

"Alright, we'll hole up. Wait for him, to come to us."

"In the meantime…" Sam said, softly, allowing the sentence to linger between the two of them, a temptation that neither could take…

* * *

An interruption of a phone call from a vampire was a most disruptive thing.

What was worse, having his neck torn apart by said Vampire, wondering if this is how he would go to hell.

He felt the golden protective energy form Sam, saw Gordon get drawn away from him, all of the sudden fascinated by the barbed wire now around his neck.

Sam didn't blink, didn't do anything but focus on beheading the fucker as soon as possible, but slowly as possible.

No one would take Dean early; no one would leave him alone before it was time.

He would die before he let that happen.

When the head fell to the floor with a grotesque pop, his moved for Dean, who was beginning to stand, holding his neck.

Sam was there immeaditly, a tower that shelter over Dean as strong hand wrapped around the wound closing it, as blood streamed out slow, a tender waterfall.

Dean glanced at Sam and said, "You killed a vampire with no weapon, just your bare hands. A little reckless don't you think?"

Sam smirked. "He tried to kill you."

* * *

Baby was acting up, was not giving them a good time.

Dean was the mechanic, the one who knew her inside and out; knew all her parts and pieces as if they were his own.

He glanced at Sam, who sat on the cooler, sipping a beer and gazing off into nowhere, waiting patiently for Baby to be back on her tires again.

"Hey Sam, Come here."

Dean taught him, because he knew that Sam had to prepared had to know how to do this when Dean wasn't there anymore.

He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't have enough time to teach Sam everything, to teach him all that he desired to in the little amount of time he had left.

But the two of them, hanging over the Impala's engine was enough, just the bright eyed look Sam gave him, and the shock when he told Sammy to fix it was enough to become a soft memory, one did would replay over again.

"You need to know how to do this, when I'm no longer here."

He turned to sit down, to sip his beer and relax; when Sam's hand clasped him around his arm, spun him to face Sam again.

"Stand with me, Dean. Please, just stand with me."

The smell of engine oil, of grease, whiskey and mint; they hit Sam's sense's in such an override that had him clinging to Dean, not wanting him to leave his side; not right now.

It was Dean that closed the gap to their lips, which placed a firm kiss of want and assurance on to Sam, allowing him just this one moment to memorize the taste of Earth and Musk, of gold molten and hardened into blocks.

Their energies snapped together, spun around them, pulled them closer.

Dean backed off, just for a second, to gaze into eyes that pierced his, that let him know at least someone in this life loved him.

"I'll stand. Fix her, Sam. Fix Baby."

Sam did, while Dean looked on quietly, every once in a while reaching out to run a hand through Sam's hair, or grip his hand firmly in his own….

* * *

The supernatural sometimes allows events to drag us in closer or tear us apart.

It is a never ending roller coaster, but on that does not need to be bared alone…..


End file.
